Recovered
by cleverdistraction
Summary: whoa, Chapter 9! A closed case from Carolyn's past that threatens to upset the current balance of her professional and personal life, but nothing goes according to plan. WIPBarekLogan
1. Chapter 1

Recovered

Author: Laura

Rating: T, for some language and for the circumstances surrounding the case…but that will come up later.

Disclaimer: Not mine. I'm not even trying to pretend it's mine…but I thought that this was an interesting concept that has gone to trial before and I was surprised that when I was thinking back on all the L&O episodes I've ever heard about or have seen, I don't think that this has ever been explored (tell me if I'm wrong…)

Pairing: Barek/Logan…but don't let that deter you...

A/N: Basically, the casefile was inspired by my Philosophy class…and then, upon my limited research of the FBI and NYPD, I found that Major Case only investigates homicides under rather large circumstances, so I figured that this would be large enough for them to want it. All the explanations of my case-related assumptions are at then end. I tried to find the answer, but couldn't…so I just went with my gut. I'm not the best with writing action, so bear with the melodrama—I've tried to whittle it down to the point where it isn't so out of character for the readers..but I don't know how well I've done. Feedback is HIGHLY appreciated. Not to threaten, but if I don't get any kind of reinforcement I don't know how likely I'll be to keep writing. I really have a very sensitive ego…so please review. begging ceases

Btw, I've never written a casefile before…so I bet I'm going to be wrong about some stuff. I just ask that you tell me nicely and bear with it. I'm trying my best.

Recovered, Part 1

A half eaten bagel sat next to a small container of light cream cheese on Carolyn's desk as she typed feverishly at her computer. At ten after, Mike had gone to lunch with some of the boys, and left her alone to her lunch "break," which consisted of too much paperwork and too little nutrition. Throwing away the crusted-over remnants of her lunch, it occurred to her that even after all her years, she still hadn't managed to accept the fact that she refused to take a break when there was something left to do. It was even harder yet to try to imagine how many lunches and dinners she had voluntarily skipped on behalf of her work...but she knew that she wouldn't take any of them back. She was a self-proclaimed workaholic, and damned proud of it.

After dusting the crumbs from her desk into the trashcan, she turned expectantly to the elevator doors as the arrival of a car let out the shrill ping of its arrival. Out tumbled her partner and his random smattering of coworkers, all exchanging knowing looks and laughing expressions. Carolyn rolled her eyes, shook her head, and turned back to the case sprawled out on the desktop before her.

"Don't you ever go out to lunch?" came the harsh gruff of her partner's voice from behind her. Looking behind her, she saw him leaning against an unoccupied desk with an amused and teasing glint in his eyes.

Shrugging before turning back to her work, she wistfully replied, "No, not really. There's too much to do around here for the brains of this team to just wander off for...thirty-nine minutes."

"Hey!"

"You asked for it..."

"I'm more than just the beauty around here, you know..."

"I didn't say anything of the sort--and given your appearance lately, I don't think anyone else did, either..."

"What? What's wrong with the way I look?" He asked, looking down at his slightly unkempt attire with a hurt expression.

"Nothing, princess...you look just as pretty as Goren, I promise..." she mocked in a sickly sweet tone.

Before Logan could emit another objection, a harried looking young woman fumbled into the squad room. Her hair was mussed and her makeup was smeared, but her eyes searched the faces of the squad room wildly before settling upon the two bantering detectives. Making a beeline in their direction, she let out a hurried, 'excuse me' before Carolyn managed to make another smart comment about Logan's unusual silence. Confused, Carolyn looked from the woman to Logan, who merely gave a slight shrugging of his shoulders before inquiring into the woman's business.

"You--you are Carolyn Barek--the, uh, the same Barek that worked for the FBI?"

Confused, Carolyn hesitantly confirmed what the woman had said before beginning what was likely to be an assault of questions.

"You handled the Varzetti cases? The rape and murders of the twelve girls found in Central Park?"

"Yes, but I--"

"I called you a couple of times...you, you never answered my questions and you haven't called me back with information. I'm just looking for answers..."

"I'm sorry, but like I have said before, this case, open or closed, is no longer my jurisdiction. Any information you receive or give must be done so through the FBI." Mike moved from his position at the desk across the aisle closer to Barek, standing up straight with narrowing eyes. The confusion was evident in his face, but his worry was less evident, only seen in the balling of his fists at his side as he stood behind his partner.

"I just need you--"

"Miss..."

"But I really--"

"Miss, like I--"

"Damnit, lady, I have information on this case that you need to--"

"Miss!" Carolyn snapped before taking a breath and continuing, "I cannot help you in this matter. You have to go to the FBI--they can talk to you there. The best I can do is give you the number of an old colleague of mine. And, even then, I cannot say as to how much help he will be in this matter." Just as she reached for a post-it to write down the name and number, the woman angrily flung herself toward the desk.

"You stuck up bitch...You have to listen to me!" As Carolyn stepped back, the woman lunged forward to push at her, "You have to listen to me!" Reacting quickly, Mike stepped into her path and held out his arms to stop the angry arms of the other woman. Stunned, Carolyn watched as her partner restrained the now hysteric woman and handed her over to the security guard that had come over shortly after the physical ordeal had begun.

Regaining composure and sighing in defeat, Carolyn slumped down into her chair and grabbed the nearest file, trying desperately to ignore the look on her partner's face. Letting her dark hair frame her face and fall into her eyes, she gripped the pen with such strength that her fingertips began to lose their color. She did not write.

She was waiting. Waiting for her partner to overreact to the scene that had unfolded before them. Biting her bottom lip gently, she kept her head down toward the papers in front of her while her eyes glanced upward over her dark lashes. Mike had sat down some time between the woman's departure and Carolyn's glance, and was staring at her with the kind of intensity he usually reserved for interrogations. That was not a good sign. But the words that tumbled from his mouth were not angry...they were accentuated with a hint of pain, but were gentle as they floated across the desk to her.

"Who was that woman...and why didn't you tell me you had been getting phone calls from her?"

Looking back down to the file before her, partly out of embarrassment, she offered a gruff, "It was none of your concern." If the encounter with the seemingly deranged woman in the middle of the squad room hadn't been enough to warrant some form of voice inflection from him, this comment would be sure to do the job, and she knew it.

Sure enough, it did. "None of my business Carolyn? None of my business? What the--come with me..."

"Mike, sit down; people are looking...and we have work to do." She retorted angrily, not understanding why his protectiveness decided to pinpoint this exact moment to emerge. He was making mountains out of...well, flat land...

He lowered his voice and set his gaze to hers so as to not draw any more unwanted attention. "Damnit, Barek, I will not discuss this with you in the squad room, so come with me now."

"You aren't my keeper, Logan, and I don't think there is anything to discuss."

"Well, whether or not there is something to discuss...we can...uh, discuss it, somewhere else. Now come on, or I'm not letting you out of my sight after you leave work tonight. And neither one of us wants that..."

"Fine. But you better make it snappy, or else I'm gone." Gathering up the file in front of her to resemble some sort of work-related outing, she followed Logan's lead to Interrogation Four, tucked in the back corner of the station, obscure and unoccupied. Before Mike shut the door behind them, Barek's anger had piqued and she had started her assault on his ridiculous behavior.

"Damnit, Logan, where the hell do you come off bossing me around like that? You are making too much of that woman. She's just a curious twenty-something looking for answers. I just can't help her. She was upset. It was nothing. And, really, it isn't any of your concern, no matter how big of an overbearing ass you plan on being today! There is nothing to discuss, so let's just move past this and go back to work."

"Carolyn, that woman got physical with you--that's not nothing. She could have done much more than just push you around--especially since she knows where you live. She was not just someone looking for answers--people looking for answers don't start their own assault on detectives just because they aren't finding what they're looking for!"

"It was a little push, Logan. It wasn't like she broke any fucking bones. Hell, I won't even have bruises from that! Believe me when I tell you that it was nothing, I've handled far worse...She's a little twig of a thing--she couldn't have done anything to me! And I never said she knew where I lived...she knows my phone number--lots of people do. Stop jumping to ridiculous conclusions!"

"This isn't about getting physical...and you know it. You should have said something about the phone calls. How many times has she called 'looking for answers' that you don't have? You can't just ignore people like that--they get persistent and show up where you don't expect them. Sound familiar?"

She let out an exasperated sigh and threw her hands up into the air in conciliation, "She called three times. Just three. It wasn't a big deal. She overreacted and she was frustrated...why can't you understand that? Because, really, if anyone should be able to understand the actions of someone who is frustrated and angry, it should be you." she struck out pointedly, only realizing the weight of her words after they had been said. Her eyes darted up to meet his and her hand came to rest upon her lips in shock. Her breath hitched and her apology caught in her throat as she tried desperately to take them back. Her words fell into the thick silence as Mike turned his stone-faced expression to the two-way. She crossed to him, reaching out and letting her outstretched arm linger in the space between them. She drew her arm back toward her, afraid to touch him--afraid of what her words may have done to him.

In their short time together, she had noticed that his expressions were either easily read or not at all---he either let her know what he was feeling, or he hid from her. Pain, anger, betrayl---even the worst emotions were welcome to cover the pit in her stomach that she felt when he said nothing at all. So, she stood there behind him, waiting for his voice to stop the hushed ringing in her ears.

"I do understand. I know that given my history, I should be the one cutting her some slack...but I'm the one who's been in her shoes when she's angry and frustrated. I know what I've done, and what I'm capable of doing, in that state. And it makes me sick to think that you don't realize what kind of danger you could have been in. What kind of danger you may still be in--and over what? Nothing. You have to do this job thinking everyone's crazy and the smallest thing could push them over the edge. You have to be on constant guard. I don't care if that woman wanted the last of your pathetic bagel, if she's calling you every night for three days and shows up here to push you around--that matters. It's not nothing." By the time he reached his last words, his voice dropped to a whisper.

"I can take care of myself, you know...I'm not porcelain. And it's not like I'm new to this job--I know that people are unstable, but I also think that, until now, I had some sort of control over the situation. Plus, why worry so much when I've got you to do it for both of us?" Her voice was soft, attempting to lighten the mood before turning serious again, "What can I do to make you believe that I'll be fine? Really, Mike, tell me because it looks like if I want to keep you around I have to assure you and, so far, I'm out of ideas on how to do that."

"You could stay with someone tonight, just incase...that, eh, that would be a step in the right direction, I guess."

"Think again. I'm not giving up my freedom because you're spooked. I'm staying in my apartment tonight, no buts about it. But...I promise you I'll lock all my doors and check all my windows." He turned around to face her, a slight smile threatening to break through. No matter what she said, Carolyn Barek would forever be her own woman. But it was an olive branch, extended in the most absurd way, yet forever an olive branch. He could deal with that.

"Okay...and screen your phone calls, would you? I don't want anymore crazies showing up here and disturbing the resident genius from her work."

"Damn straight," she laughed, leading them out the door before stopping suddenly. "We're okay, right?"

"Yea, we're okay...we've never not been okay."

"Okay...you know, you have quite the mastery of the English language at times like these..."

"Not funny."

"Au contraire, mon ami."

"You speak French, too?"

"Didn't I mention that one...?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"Yea, I'm sure...I counted."

---

Just over a week later, the incident had been dropped and work continued its hectic schedule. Deakins had inquired into the incident only once and had seemed satisfied with their explanation. No further discussion had commenced about the strange woman or the Varzetti case, but Carolyn found herself thinking about it at the strangest times. When she threw a load of laundry into the washer, or when she was cooking dinner, her thoughts returned to the case so long buried in the back of her mind. She couldn't shake the feeling that this woman was more than a "crazy" off the street, dreaming up any circumstance to bring her into the sight pattern of the NYPD. She thought back frequently to that day in the squad room, and to the phone calls the nights before. It had gotten to the point that she had called her colleague at the FBI to send over what he could of her old files on the case. Her curiosity had gotten to the point that she did not mind stretching the truth to her friend. She gave him the impression that the department needed the files on hand for reference purposes for a shady lead on their newest case, promising to report any relevant information if the lead panned out. Any file she was authorized to have was sent directly to her apartment and currently sat on the floor next to her couch. Looking to the carton guiltily, she couldn't help but feel the familiar pull of intrigue. Maybe there was something that they had missed. Maybe looking on the case once more with new eyes would help lead her to any new conclusions the woman had insisted upon...

If not, she knew that she had written the woman's number down on a scrap piece of paper somewhere in her living room.

Spreading the file out on the coffee table, she looked from crime reports to evidence write-ups to photographs. She found nothing. There were no holes in her theories, no evidentiary discrepancies. The logical connection between the victims based on gender, age, physical build, and location was unbreakable. The accused fit the profile and had motive, as well as opportunity, for the killings. He was now serving a life sentence without the chance of parole. The case was solid.

Hanging her head in defeat, though defeat laced with pride, she wondered at calling the woman. But even now, holding the phone in her hands, she heard Mike's voice in the back of her mind, telling her to put it down. As she retrieved the phone number and dialed, she knew that she shouldn't. She knew that she was breaking their silent promise to play it safe. Her conscience said to hang up the phone. Her gut, unfortunately the stronger of the two, told her to continue.

"Hello?"

"Yes, hi, can I speak to a...Gina ...Marnelle?"

"Speaking."

"Ms. Marnelle, this is Detective Carolyn Barek...I...I just wanted to apologize for disregarding your concern on the Varzetti case, and I was...well, I was wondering if you would still like to offer your information?"

"I thought you couldn't help me since you no longer work for the FBI?" the woman spat angrily.

"Well, I have come across the information once again and I have reason to believe that your new information could be of some interest to pursue."

"Are you able to pursue it, or will it be thrown back out of your jurisdiction?" Carolyn steeled herself from the woman's obvious distaste for her.

"I cannot say for certain, but right now I'm the only one you've got listening."

"How can you be so sure about that?" the woman replied boldly.

"Because you never would have made such a scene at the station had you had somewhere else to turn. I was your last hope, and I shut you out. But now I'm listening--better late than never, I suppose..."

The woman hesitated before starting, "Clarissa Denbow was not the twelfth Varzetti girl...Nowell Varzetti didn't kill her, and I know who did. I was there."

Intrigued, Carolyn prompted the woman to say more. "Who do you think killed her?"

"I don't think--I know…it...it was my mother's second husband, Rick, ah, Rick Simmis."

"If this is true, and you were a material witness to the crime, why have you not come forward before now?"

Silence.

"Ms. Marnelle?"

A soft sigh erupted from the other end of the phone line and the woman's voice grew quieter as if in disbelief, "I didn't know the truth of it until now. My memory of the event has only resurfaced through professional therapy. My recollection is what is termed a 'recovered memory.' I...I just never knew...but I always had this distinct feeling that I should know...the case has always been very hard for me. Clarissa was my best friend, and it frustrated me to think that I couldn't remember the days surrounding her death. I mean, when your best friend dies that young, you should remember that day---where you were, what you were doing, who told you the news...but I could never remember any of it. It was only when my daughter's friend, Amy, was in a car accident a few weeks ago that I finally scheduled a therapy session. Everyday that I took my daughter to the hospital to visit, all I could remember was Clarissa...so one day, I dropped my daughter off at the hospital and went in for my session. My therapist and I have been sorting through my memories using relaxation therapy...and during my fourth session, it all came back in vivid clarity...my step-father, Clarissa, and I...and...the, ah, the truth..." Gina stopped, whimpering slightly as she struggled to hold back tears at the memory...

"If what you say is true, I'm going to have to ask that you come in tomorrow morning and give a full record of the events as you remember them. If we find that Clarissa Denbow wasn't a victim of Varzetti assaults, I believe I can persuade my captain into letting Major Case take jurisdiction over the matter."

"Is that possible?"

"Given my experience on the case at the time of its occurrence, and the fact that if it is no longer a serial homicide, the Bureau must relinquish its jurisdiction over the case. Especially since it would be considered a cold case if it was in fact a separate occurrence. But before I can do anything, I need your statement...is it possible for you to be in around noon?"

"Yes," she said, pausing before she continued, "Thank you for looking into the case, Ms. Barek. I am sorry to have caused you any problems...I just...I so desperately want closure...I want the truth to be told…"

"I understand the feeling…I'll set an appointment for you tomorrow at noon…"

"Thank you...for everything."

"Don't thank me yet..." She paused before ending the call, trying to put her thoughts in order. Both curious and confused, Carolyn dialed Mike's number on her cell and waited for him to pick up. Three rings later, a rough and groggy voice answered in an annoyed tone.

"What the hell do you want this late at night, Car?"

"As tempting as you make that sound, Mike...I think I may have gotten us wrapped up in a new case...or, uhm, an old case."

"Where are we headed?"

"Nowhere."

Muttering obscenities, Logan let out a frustrated breath, "Car, have you looked at a clock lately?"

"Uhm...no?"

"So, basically, you are calling me at 1:45 in the morning to tell me that we have a new case when you could have just as easily told me when I go to work a few hours from now?"

"Well...not exactly, see...the thing is, I'm going to need your help on actually getting us the case. I have this lead into an old case and I want to explore it, but I need you in there to back me up."

"If by 'in there' you mean Deakins' office, you're going to have to tell me what we're dealing with."

"The Varzetti case."

"Damnit, Carolyn! It's not our case... and it's solved! Why the hell--oh shit. You didn't..."

"She has information, Mike, I can't just--"

"No, you're right—you can't just leave well enough alone!"

"Are you with me in there or not?"

"I...I need to know why, Car...why does this mean so much all of a sudden?"

"It's just...It's...I..." She let out a grand sigh of frustration.

"You're going to tell me sooner or later, why prolong the inevitable?"

"Because it's not necessarily something I want to say over the phone at two in the morning...let's just say that I have a gut feeling, okay? Can you just trust me on this?"

"Yea, I trust you...I'm with you...but tomorrow night you're telling me why I just got myself into this..."

"Got it...now go back to bed, I'll see you in the morning."

"Yea, yea...get some sleep tonight, will you? I worry when you call me like this and you don't even know what time it is...plus, that big brain of yours has to be sharp enough to try and reopen a closed case you stole from the FBI without Deakins blowing a gasket..."

"Goodnight to you too, Mike."

"Night."


	2. Chapter 2

Recovered, Chapter 2

Disclaimers, Author Info, etc. in Chapter 1…

A/N: So, I lied. I meant to put my reasoning behind the whole FBI/NYPD thing at the end of the last chapter…but I forgot, so, here it is:

I'm basing my assumption that the NYPD would receive the case from the NY branch of the FBI because the FBI can take jurisdiction over NYPD cases in certain circumstances. Basically (and I'll explain it further in the next chapters), the overall case was a series of related cases that the FBI took jurisdiction over because they came to the conclusion that it was a serial killer they had on their wanted list. So the FBI took over all the cases from the NYPD, including the Clarissa Denbow homicide, and I'm thinking that since it started out as an NYPD case but was taken over by the FBI because they mistakenly (or not, ooo, you don't know…!) thought the victim was the twelfth victim of the serial killer, if the NYPD shows that it was not one of the serial homicides, they can reopen the investigation under their own jurisdiction…I could be totally wrong on all my assumptions, but it's fiction and I'm young, so I get to pretend that I'm right. lol. If anyone knows more about this and would like to let me know, go right ahead. I may change it to make it work…but I'm going with my gut for the most part.

Plus, I'm basically making up whatever I don't know about Carolyn's background. I know in the episode "In the Wee Small Hours" they made reference to the fact that she was a detective, but then after 9/11, they put her on temporary leave to the FBI for something like 2 years…but I'll explain what that has to do with anything at the end. I'm just saying I don't know about the jackass old partner (I made him up) or anything of that nature…just so you don't take it as the gospel-truth…

And a great big, tremendous thank you to everybody who reviewed…had it not been for you all, I probably wouldn't have written this part nearly as fast…and really, after Chapter 1, I had NO IDEA where I was going…but you all reviewed and my muse said, "eh, I'll stick around for a bit…" So, she came out to play and decided that she was going to mess with my story a bit…and then the rational part of me pointed out some errors in memory (ha!) that I had from the show…lol. That explanation comes at the end so as to not spoil anything…so if you're confused, read through and I'll put it in my words at the bottom! Anyway, like I was saying: BIG THANKS to everybody who reviewed! I'm glad you enjoyed the first part, let's see if you abandon ship with the second (crosses fingers in hopes that you don't)! Please keep reviewing (and if you haven't, please do)…it really is what keeps me writing!

Chapter 2

The next morning was just as hectic as the previous, with over half its pairings out on investigatory leads or crime scenes. It was disheartening, really, when you thought about it as a detective--the criminals never took a day off. They never got tired of causing pain and indulging anger. And some days, even for the best, most seasoned detectives, it was just too much to take. Today was shaping up to be one of those days. Goren and Eames had spent a whole minute and a half in the office when they arrived in the morning before being sent out on their next case--a rash of robberies resulting in the deaths of all witnesses and few leads of which to speak. But that minute in a half Goren and Eames had in the office was more than some of the other partners had--everyone was out in full force: analyzing, discovering, interviewing...it was mayhem, the likes of which Logan and Barek hadn't seen since their first day at Major Case. But even then, it was a different kind of hectic. It was the kind of hectic that echoes a little kid's first day of kindergarten--something you would grow into and fall in step with, but, at first, new and confusing.

When Logan and Barek arrived, they were immediately summoned into Deakins' office regarding a new case. As they walked to the office, Mike gave Carolyn an appraising look, silently questioning what was to become of their discussion only hours earlier. She gave him a weak smile and a curt nod before filing into Deakins' office. Sitting down in the chairs opposite him, they listened intently as he told them that, pending approval, they would be collaborating yet again with Goren and Eames on the robberies and homicides in mid-town. It was to be a high-profile case, he had told them, since it involved the short disappearance of a city councilman's daughter and her connection to one of the suspects. By the end of his short introduction to the case, Carolyn was squirming ever so slightly in her seat. Mike looked at her pointedly, as Deakins made another point of reference to the investigation, and she sulked deeper into her seat, discomfort written all over her face.

Turning around to see his two detectives not paying him enough attention, Deakins interrupted, "Care to share with the rest of the class, you two?"

Both looked up with guilty looks, mumbling a chorus of 'no sir's. It was only when Mike inconspicuously nudged her foot that Carolyn spoke up.

"Sir, with all due respect, do you really think Goren and Eames need our help on this case? It seems awfully routine for the four of us to all be of use."

"Barek, nothing is ever routine, but despite that, I have a feeling you are trying to get at something but you aren't telling me outright, so spit it out." Deakins moved from his position standing behind his desk to sit on the corner of it while he listened to Barek's proposition.

"Sir, I think that, given how well Goren and Eames work together with this sort of situation, they can handle it. I feel that we would just be in the way, and our attention would be better focused on another case."

"And you have a case in mind, I assume?"

"Yes, sir. But there are special circumstances surrounding the case we wish to pursue."

"Let me guess, these special circumstances include an already solved case that you worked while at the Bureau. Now you want my permission and assistance in prying it from their grasp to re-investigate one of the cases that originated in Homicide, because you have a lead? Am I right?" To her surprised look, he simply shrugged and moved off of the desk to pace slowly behind it.

"I, uhm..yes, sir. May I ask how you..?" she trailed off at the chuckle he let out.

"I knew your curiosity would get the best of you sooner or later. I have my sources around the squad room that told me the underlying issue with that "incident" last week. And as soon as they said the phrases 'Barek's old case' and 'new information,' I knew you'd be in here begging for the chance to re-open it. And I knew that you'd convince him to go along with it." he finished, pointing at Mike with a slight smile on his face.

"And, sir? What's the verdict?"

"You get this woman in here to give a full statement and I'll see what I can do. But since you're talking about pursuing it, I assume you've convinced the woman to come in sometime today. Which almost makes me feel like a pushover, but, right now, I think I'm okay with that. Just clear it with me next time. I'll get Carver on the phone and let you know whether he gives you the go-ahead."

"Thank you, sir. The woman...her name is Gina Marnelle, and she'll be in around noon to give her statement."

"Okay, I'm done with you two, but one of you has to break the news to Goren and Eames that they're working alone."

"That's all yours, Barek...all yours." Mike piped up from the chair next to hers, giving her his patented innocent look.

"You two are dismissed, but report back to me when Ms. Marnelle is done giving her statement."

"Yes, sir."

---

It was twenty after when Mike finally turned to Carolyn and raised his eyebrows.

Carolyn, shoving part of her bagel into her mouth, stopped mid-bite and mumbled, "What?"

"It's just that it's twenty after and your witness is yet to show up...and here you are, perfectly content eating that bagel and doing paperwork. Is this really all you do when I go out to lunch?"

"Well, yea...I mean, there's a lot to do around here when you leave, and this is all I really need..." she gestured to the bagel sitting before her as she turned her attention back to the computer monitor.

"Wow, Barek...that's...well, sad..."

In mock offense, she scoffed, and said, "Well, goodness…I feel so much better about myself having had this conversation..."

"That's not how I meant it...I just mean that you deserve a lot more fun than sitting here with a bagel and paperwork..."

"Well, that has yet to be seen...and, really, I'm perfectly content with my bagel and paperwork...it's rather quite nice, there's no hustle and bustle of people and there's plenty of time to--"

"I don't buy that for a minute. Doing work on your lunch hour is never nice...tell you what, tomorrow, you're coming to lunch with me."

"I really don't think that's a good idea. Plus, I thought that meetings of the he-man-woman-hating club were boys only...just because I'm a cop doesn't mean I'm not a woman..."

"We don't hate women! We love women! And, if it makes you feel any better, I was thinking just us...the two of us. We can't have your first lunch outing be a circus---you've got to ease yourself into this sort of thing. It takes practice, really..."

"I'll bet it does..."

"So, we on for tomorrow?"

"Well..."

"C'mon…you know you want to..."

"Fine, if it'll stop your whining, I'll go..."

"Good." Just as Mike flashed a smile her way, he saw Gina Marnelle make her way to their desks--this time must more composed and with a faint smile of appreciation drawn across her lips. "In-coming."

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Carolyn looked back to see Gina walking toward them. Standing up to greet her, she pulled out a chair and said, "Ms. Marnelle?...Thank you for coming down on such short notice. You can have a seat here..."

"Thanks," she said, sitting delicately on the edge of the chair facing the two detectives.

"This is my partner, Mike Logan," she said as Mike stretched out his hand and plastered a fake smile across his face. "First, we'd like to start by saying that we will be recording this interview and we are going to be periodically interrupting your statement to ask questions for clarification, alright?"

"Yes, that is fine."

"Okay, then we can start...go ahead and state your name and relationship to the deceased, and then you can begin where ever you would like."

"My name is Gina Marnelle, and Clarissa Denbow was my best friend just prior to her...death. We, ah...we had been best friends for about, uhm, three years before she died. We went to grade school together and had been friends since she moved to my school in sixth grade...we, we went to St. Mary's until we reached high school, then we were transferred to St. Catherine's...she, umm..she came to my house almost everyday after school from sixth grade into high school since her parents both worked late. She, ah, she got to know my mom and step-dad. She loved my mom...I remember that very distinctly because she said she wished that my mom was hers...and that we could be sisters..."

"What was her relationship with your step-father, Rick Simmis?"

"She, well...I thought they got along pretty well. He was always hanging around us and asking us if we needed anything. It, uh, it wasn't until high school that she ever really told me that she didn't like him too much. She said he gave off a funny vibe...she only told me that because when we were in ninth grade, my mom and Rick got divorced..."

"What do you remember from the night she died?"

"She, ah, she had come over after school and we went to go get ice cream down the street. We sat outside for a little bit eating our ice cream, and then, just before we went to walk home, Rick drove up in his van and asked us if we needed a ride. We agreed because we'd known him for three years and he seemed like an okay guy, even if he wasn't with my mom anymore. Neither of us really knew why they split up, so we just assumed he hung around to try and work things out. They'd only been divorced a couple of weeks..."

"What happened when you got into his van?"

"He told us we could get in the back and he'd take us right home because he was headed to see my mom anyway. He said that he just had to grab some papers from his apartment first, and it was on the way...so, ah, so we stopped by there first. He went to the house and we waited in the van, but he was in there for a long time, so we tried to, uh, to look into the house through the windows to see what was taking so long. I saw him, umm, on the phone with...with someone, so we waited a little longer for him, thinking he was going to get off the phone any second. I don't really remember when he got off the phone, but I do remember that it had started raining before he came out from his house. I...I remember because, ah, the van cooled down a lot. It was summer out, but when it rained, we started to shiver because the temperature dropped..."

"What happened next?"

"He, uhm, he came back out from the house and got into the driver's seat. He pulled out of the parking spot and went down a road I didn't recognize. When I, uh, asked about it, he said we were going to take a short cut. So, Clarissa and I talked in the back while we moved further from any recognizable buildings in our neighborhood. We stopped in an alley by a gas station...Rick said he needed to get something from the store really quick and we were supposed to wait until he came back. So, we waited...and a couple of minutes later, he came back...but, he, uh, he came into the back of the van instead of the front. He, uhm, locked all the doors and put the seats back a little bit. We didn't know what he was doing, so we just sat there and waited. Then, he told me to sit in the second row of seats while he cleaned underneath my seat. So, I climbed into the back and by the, uh, by the time, I was...by the time I was turned around in the back seat to see what was going on, I saw him...he, uh..." Gina looked down at her folded hands and picked at invisible dirt in her fingernails.

Tentatively, Carolyn pushed her forward, "What was he doing?" Gina hesitated and tilted her head before continuing.

"He, ah, he had one of his...one of his hands over Clarissa's mouth and had her...uhm, pushed back onto the lowered seat and was...was unbuttoning her top. He popped the third button off and it rolled onto the floor underneath the seat…I remember seeing it sitting there afterward…I...I tried to say something to make him stop...but no words would come out, so I just...I just sat there in shock. He had her skirt hiked up and was...ah...molesting her…before I could say anything. I yelled at him to stop, and he kind of...kind of slowed down and told me to, ah...to shut the hell up or he'd...or he'd kill me. And, then he...he pulled out a knife and waved it at me…so I started crying and rocking, uhm, back and forth and looked up at the ceiling until he stopped...and all I could think of was that Clarissa had this bad feeling about him...and how I should have listened to her...and how we should have never gotten into the van..."

"What happened after he molested her, Gina?"

"He...he...he pulled the knife back out—it had a green handle on it—and, ahh...told me to look over at him...I was...I was so afraid that he'd hurt me if I didn't do what he said...so I looked over and he, umm, he raised the knife to her throat and cut it. There was...there was blood all over the place…the green handle was covered in it and I thought it looked a little like Christmas gone horribly wrong...and I screamed and hid my eyes...he, uh, he, he told me that if I ever told anyone, the same thing would happen to me...and that he knew where I lived and went to school...and he'd be there if I ever told anybody..."

"What did he do after that?"

"He...he pulled up his pants, and, ah, took Clarissa and laid her in the alley with her legs spread...he made her look like she looked in the van, I remember that...she just looked so helpless and so fragile...just like she did in the van...when he left the body, he...he got into the driver's seat and we left...we...we went back to his house and he made...another call. He said something about...where the body was...and how he did it...and that I'd stay quiet if I knew what was best...then, he...he walked me back down to the ice cream stand and told me to go home and..uh..never, uhm, never say another word about it again..."

"What do you remember next?"

"I don't really remember anything...I remember that it was raining and I remember leaving the ice cream stand...but that's where my memory stops. I don't remember going home...or hearing about Clarissa...or even going to her funeral...I just remember that it was raining..."

"Do you know why you can remember some parts of the incident but not others?"

"I...I went to therapy...my..my daughter, her friend was in the hospital and she was touch-and-go there for a while...and the whole time she was in the hospital I kept thinking about how I couldn't remember when Clarissa died...like she was there one minute, but gone the next...I, ah, I had heard on the news about some women who had gone through the same thing---they couldn't remember certain parts of their lives---and they went to this therapist to help them...and they, uh, they went into relaxation therapy and they...they remembered things...So, when my daughter's friend got a little better, I would drop my daughter off at the hospital to, you know, visit...and I went to a therapist...we did the same thing those other women did...the relaxation therapy...and, and that's--that's why I remember the things I remember...I haven't quite finished my treatment, but what I have finished has...has given me those memories..."

"When did you first alert the police to this information?"

"I...I tried to tell you, Detective Barek, about two weeks ago, right after my latest treatment when I had remembered the details of the event...but, it...it was an FBI case...so I had to go to them...and they told me that the, uh, the case had been closed, so..I came back here to see you about a week ago..."

"When is your next appointment for relaxation therapy?"

"It's...ah, it's tomorrow..."

"Okay, well, we thank you for you information and make sure that if, after another session, you remember anything concerning the case, you let us know, alright?"

"Yes, I will..."

"Okay, thank you...we're done for now. If we have any questions, we'll contact you."

"Okay..." Dazed and relieved, Gina got up silently and made for the elevator. Sitting back and rubbing his eyes, Mike let out the sigh he had been holding in for most of the interview. Carolyn pushed the STOP button on the recorder and leaned back into her own seat.

"Looks like we've got our work cut out for us, huh?"

"Yea..it does."

"Guess we better start getting that typed up...I—I'll do it, you can finish whatever it was that you were working on..."

"Thanks," she said, pausing before she continued. "Mike...what do you...what do you think that would feel like?"

"You mean having witnessed your best friend's murder only to have to relive it again twelve years later?" At her nod, he rubbed his jaw with one hand and continued, "I think it would be really tough...I take back anything I said about her yesterday—you have to be pretty damned patient to hold that in for two weeks when no one even wanted to listen to the story...to have to carry that all inside...I just don't know..." He shook his head and twirled the recorder in his hands while he looked at intensely.

"Yea, I know..." The two simultaneously stared at inanimate objects in contemplation before finally returning to their work. Mike wrote the transcripts of the interview and helped Carolyn finish their paperwork on their previous case, both completely silent--the only sound coming from the click of fingers on keyboards and the play and pause of the tape recorder. Both were lost in their own intensity and contemplation, not saying a word until Deakins bellowed their names from his office.

They stood up looking slightly defeated and drained, still remaining silent. Mike stood at the printer to retrieve the transcripts, while Carolyn walked toward the office, still playing the interview over in her head.

When they entered the office, Mike handed the transcripts to their captain so that he could review them before beginning.

"It looks to me like we've got a pretty substantial statement here, and I'm sure that it is enough to re-open the case. Make sure you send a copy to Carver's office because he'll be signing the legal paperwork that needs to be sent to the Bureau to re-open the case. We'll be getting authorization tomorrow to receive all the files, evidence, and other work that the Bureau has on the Clarissa Denbow case. This is not going to become an investigation into the entirety of the Varzetti cases--your investigation will limit itself to the Clarissa Denbow case. If it turns out that the Bureau was incorrect in its conclusion about this case, it still will not become an investigation into where they went wrong or why. You must understand that your only objective to look at this case with new eyes and find where Ms. Marnelle's account of Ms. Denbow's murder fits--whether it is correct or incorrect. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir, we understand..."

"Good...now I understand that both of you worked through your lunch hour--it's four now. Other than the paperwork you've been finishing all afternoon, there's nothing left to do here. You finish that up and fax the transcript of the statement to Carver, then you can go get yourselves something to eat and leave early. I'll have someone call you if we get early authorization or files...You are dismissed."

"Thank you, sir.." Mike offered as they left his office, following behind his conspicuously dazed partner. "Hey, Barek…as far as I can tell, we just have to dot the i's and cross the t's in our paperwork--how about we do that real quick and grab that bite you promised me?" She looked at him with a pained, soft expression and he could only image the thoughts running through her head at the moment.

"I think…I think I'll just stay here and get a head start on all the files coming in--you go ahead, I'll call you if Deakins has anything new for us.." She lowered her head to the pages spread out before her as she sunk into her chair and began to concentrate. Within seconds, a hand was gingerly closing and removing the file from her desk.

She looked up at Mike in confusion, and he simply smiled back at her before whispering, "You promised me lunch, Car...Deakins said he'd call us if he had anything before morning. Seeing as he's our captain, we should probably listen to him before he throws us out of here. You especially, since you seem to have this habit of getting here early, refusing your lunch hour, and staying late. It's about time you get out of here...and this is the only day you're going to get a guarantee of somebody calling you with information as it comes in. I promise you'll know something as soon as it comes in...Plus, you still need to explain this all to me--you said you'd tell me tonight, and this seems like the perfect time...so let's get out of this joint and go down to O'Malley's for some food."

Sighing in resignation, she gave him another hard look before finally acquiescing. He waited for her at the elevator as she gathered her things and made her way out. They walked in silence to O'Malley's, and it was not until their food arrived that they began to have any form of real conversation.

"So...what is it with this case, Car? Why's it mean so much?"

Rolling her eyes and taking a bite of her sandwich, she swallowed it before beginning, "Well...it was my first big case at the Department...all the cases were, actually...known collectively as the Varzetti murders. I was working the case just before the Bureau took over...when they took over, Nowell Varzetti remained at-large for seven more years, but he kind of dropped off everyone's radar...when I was transferred, I was put on special cases, and the Varzetti murders were one of those special cases. Even seven years later, I was assigned to make sure nothing had been overlooked...and, well, I guess there was quite a bit overlooked that I should've seen...that's all…"

"…as convincing as that little journey into your life was, I know that's not the only reason you're upset about this case...I can see it in your eyes, Car...what's different about this one? What happened?"

"You're really relentless aren't you? I guess...I mean, I...this last case, Clarissa Denbow...when I was a new detective, I knew there was something that didn't fit with all the other cases. I knew it and...well, it didn't seem as evident so everyone else...but when it got handed over to the Bureau, I didn't have a say in it anymore. I guess that's why I snapped at Gina when she came in last week--the old flame of not being able to do a damned thing resurfacing...but...well, when I was assigned the case at the Bureau...I thought it would be different. I figured that if I could convince my partner that the Denbow case wasn't a Varzetti murder, that it would make some sort of difference...but it didn't…"

"I thought you worked alone at the Bureau?"

"Well, yea, after this case...I was too much for him, I guess. He really...he wanted to stare at my ass more than he wanted to solve this case. And even more than that, he would rather I didn't say anything at all...so, he just...stopped listening. He didn't care what I thought and dismissed me just as easily...so, finally, when I wouldn't sleep with him, he complained to our superiors about my lack of 'team spirit' and I was reassigned--and that's when I started working solo...didn't have a choice, really...but it worked..." She shrugged as she took a sip of her first beer, thankful that they were off the clock. It had been a hard day, and, if all indicators were correct, it was going to be an even harder night--even more so, since it was only the afternoon.

"He tried to sleep with you? Did he...like...did he..."

"Try to force me?" At the nod of his head, she tilted hers and gave him a slight smile before continuing. "Not explicitly...I mean, he didn't shove me down onto a desk and try to rip my clothes off...but he made comments...and...really, we don't need to talk about this--it's not important..." She looked at the beer bottle intently while pulling the label off, trying desperately to find another subject to cling to.

"It's important to me...I want to know these things...I... I want to know more about you...and, most of all, I just want to be able to look this guy in the eye one day and know the whole story before I start kicking his ass." He smiled at her as she looked at him appraisingly.

"Okay...well...he just...he always made sure that I felt a little insecure around him. He always commented on my clothes, or my body...or what my hair smelled like...or what we should do later...just comments. After awhile, it all just added up and I got sick of it. I tried to brush it off for the most part--tried to pretend I didn't hear him, or pretend he was just joking around. I thought that if I said anything, I'd be labeled as the kind of woman who can't work with men. That I'd be a feminist with an agenda or something...it was ridiculous...I mean, I grew up around the boys--I never had to mask my feelings on the basketball court or when we all went out for dinner. I never had to pretend...and then, there I was, pretending, masking...being somebody that I wasn't. And I got sick of it...so I told him to stop the comments. He didn't really think that was a good idea..."

"So what'd he do?"

"He...well...he stopped for a couple days, actually. Long enough for me to think that he realized what an ass he was being...so when he suggested we pack up the case and move it to his house, I didn't think too much of it. He said that he knew he hadn't been treating me like he should, so he offered to make us dinner and review the case to make up for it. I figured he couldn't be all bad...so I agreed, thinking that if anything happened, I'd just pack up my things and go...but I was really naive to think that he'd changed, because he didn't...he'd made dinner but had other intentions...we got about half way through our work when he, uh...well, we ended up in a precarious position, let's just put it that way..."

"Did you...did you leave?"

"Yea, as soon as I realized what was going on, I kneed him and left...took the files with me and got out of there...it was...less than pleasant--especially because I had to work with him the next morning. He was pissed--felt entitled to sleeping with me since he put up with me for a couple months. After that, he never really listened to me again. I mean, he never really heard what I was saying in the first place, but instead of misinterpreting 'no' as 'yes,' he just didn't hear anything. It was tough for awhile, learning to stop talking to him as if we were actually partners and try and do things single-handedly. He did his half of the paperwork, I did mine...that became our little arrangement until the cases were finally closed. So, when I suggested that we not include the Clarissa Denbow case with the others, he refused. I submitted my request for the first eleven, he submitted for all twelve, and we were put before a panel of our superiors to see why we couldn't seem to close the case on the same page. All they really wanted to do was prosecute Nowell Varzetti, regardless of the number...which I guess I can't fault altogether...but, it came down to the fact that he was a Bureau veteran, and I was just a temporary stand-in. He said I wasn't a team player, and that I was doing everything in my power to complicate matters that didn't need complicating. He said that the only reason I had for believing Varzetti didn't commit the last crime was because I would do anything to stall the process...and around the Bureau, his words were weighted where mine were miniscule...so I was reassigned to desk duty for the most part, catching a few cases here and there, but mainly doing paperwork or assisting..."

"So, why did you think the Denbow case wasn't a Varzetti murder?"

"Well, it fit the profile, rape and murder, but it wasn't in the same location as the others. Granted, it was in the same general area--an alley between a gas station and a church--but it was also just outside the residential neighborhood. All we knew about Varzetti is that he raped those girls in the alleys and left their bodies--he didn't move them around...he left the bodies where he had taken them for the act. And where he committed all his acts--they were all well outside the residential districts. He was too smart to rape a girl where he could be seen. And Clarissa's time of death was in the mid-afternoon. All the other girls were late at night or early in the morning--usually over the same six hour time span. It just didn't add up...I didn't understand why he'd change the technicalities of the last girl when he gave no indication of doing such. It didn't make sense that he'd just change his MO...but it didn't change enough to be striking...a lot of people working with us on the case didn't realize it...even if it was what they were paid to do..."

"Lucky for them, they had you, I guess..."

"Yea, well don't go getting all sentimental on me...they still didn't listen. And now, five years after I worked on it the first time, I'm back at it...following a hunch I never got to chase."

"Yea...feels kind of good to show those bastards you were right all along, doesn't it?"

"I guess...but this case is still anything but open-and-close..."

"What do you mean? We have eyewitness testimony...how much more substantial can you get?"

"Well...there's just...all those people in the Bureau couldn't have been completely wrong in thinking Varzetti was connected with this...the cases are all too close to suspect that this last one had nothing to do with him. Maybe this Rick Simmis is just really lucky--maybe he'd had the perfect opportunity and had the ability to commit a copycat murder...but there's still something telling me not to go full-force with this statement. And, as much as doing this job makes you realize how trustworthy a memory can be--even years after a case--there's still the fact that this isn't just a memory from the past...it's…it's a recovered memory…and that makes things a lot more complicated..."

"I'm not all up-to-date on this recovered memory stuff...I know the basics, but why isn't it as trustworthy?"

Carolyn waved her hands around, making gestures of things that she had not yet found words to describe. "Recovered memories are suppressed memories...they come back to you either out of blue--like a flashback--or through therapy. In both instances, you'll see things clearer and sharper—enough to be convinced they are real…like Gina remembering that it was raining outside, or that the third button was ripped off of Clarissa's shirt, or that the knife handle was green—they are all parts of her memory that stand out because they are clear and sharp memories…Now, usually, the flashbacks are most trusted of the two types because they're resurfacing without any outside pressure. They can't be manipulated since they aren't controlled...but relaxation therapy is different. Basically, in relaxation therapy, you are told to believe fully in what you see, feel, hear, etc. You have to believe that everything your mind is telling you is true. But, the problem lies there--that you are essentially controlling your memory. You may remember the whole thing just as it happened. You may remember parts of the whole...or you could have what is called 'false memories'--things that aren't true, but since you are believing all you feel without a filter, you believe them to be true. The best way I can describe it without being too technical is that it's like watching a television show that mirrors the things in your everyday life. Everything the character in the show does, you have done as well...and you are told to believe everything you see. So, you believe that you are the character on the show. But then, one big difference occurs---the character is in a car accident and breaks her leg, something that you've never experienced, but since you believe everything on the show to be true and believe that the character is you, you come to the conclusion that sometime in your past, you broke your leg...Does that make any kind of sense?"

"You could have just stopped by saying: you believe in the occurrence of things that never happened...but the story was a nice touch, too.."

She smiled sheepishly and finished off another pull from her beer. "Okay...well, I just wanted to give you the whole picture..."

"Nah, you just wanted to show off that big brain of yours..." Mike smiled at her over his own half-empty beer bottle and paid the check on the table, slapping Carolyn's hand away as she prepared to cover her half of the bill. He stood up, put on his coat, and held hers out for her as she joined him. "Come on, Einstein, I'll walk ya home..."

TBC

Additional A/N: Okay, so if that didn't make sense, here you go: Clarissa was killed 12 years ago when (I'm assuming) Carolyn was just barely starting as a cop/detective (generally, around 1994). The case was immediately taken to the FBI where they pinpointed the killer, but couldn't find him…so, seven years after the FBI took over the case, they still haven't caught the guy (this would be late 2001)…meanwhile, 9/11 happens and Carolyn's transferred to the FBI to help out (because we saw that during In the Wee Small Hours—that doesn't give away any of the plot of the episode, just incase you haven't seen it)…so she's assigned to basically work anything they throw at her (which I deemed 'special cases' because I'm the writer and I can…lol). They tell her and her partner to find Varzetti, so they do…now, it's 5 years later (2006) and she's looking for the truth again…I didn't want anyone to be confused and I had a feeling that if I were reading this, I would be a bit confused…so I figured I'd help out a little…

(remember to R&R if you want more, please!)


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimers and other information in Chapter 1…

A/N: This one's a little shorter…but I figure shorter is better than nothing at all…I needed a transition chapter to get myself where I wanted to be in this fic…and this was pretty perfect…so perfect that it pretty much wrote itself…I'll try and get some more up soon..but it's not written yet, so whenever I get it done! lol.

PLEASE review…I get so discouraged when I don't get reviews…it makes me all sad and depressed…and when I'm sad, my muse runs away…she likes to be happy…and no reviews means not happy…and then she leaves. I totally credit all those who reviewed (or posted on the forum) for catching my muse and bringing her back to me…it was all you guys that made her want to come back!

This chapter is dedicated to my reviewers (plus fresh meat…you know who you are! lol)

And I know this is probably exceedingly out of character at the beginning, but when my muse ran away, she went on a sugar high…so she had to make fluff when she came back…hehe. And I really can't picture funny, in-character fluff, much less write it…so forgive me. lol.

Chapter 3

Carolyn woke up the next morning surrounded by warmth. She rubbed her eyes and opened them, not quite sure whether she was ready to face the coming day. Feeling an object resting on her stomach, she looked down slightly and rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of the night before. The full capacity of the conversation and actions were a bit hazy in the early morning fog of her mind, but she distinctly remembered falling asleep with paperwork strewn all over her living room floor and couches. 'Look what my life has come to,' she thought, 'beer with my playboy partner and falling asleep to paperwork...'

She gingerly picked the book up off her body and shut it, reaching over to set it on the coffee table directly across from her. It was not until she snuggled her body back into the pillow behind her that she realized that what she was lying on was not a lumpy pillow. An arm reached around and caressed her stomach as the body belonging to it let out a groan and shifted its weight to pull her backward. The deep breaths behind her evened out once more and she suspected that her partner had never even woken up. Afraid to be thrown off the couch if he jumped when she yelled his name, she settled for saying it lightly, hoping to heaven that he wasn't a heavy sleeper.

Which he was. But it wasn't until his slightly wavering hand started moving down her body that she shot up from her position. With his hand resting on her upper thigh, she elbowed him and yelled out his name. From the sudden movement, he woke up with a start. Confused and lost, he sat up from his position laying on the couch and surveyed the room. Finally realizing where he was, he sunk back down into the cushions and muttered a 'good morning' before attempting to go back to sleep.

Still sitting between his legs, Carolyn smacked him gently on the chest before saying, "Get up you big lug...we've got to go to work..."

Moaning and opening one eye to look at his watch, he offered, "No we don't...not for another four hours. Go back to bed..." He pulled at her arm to recreate their previous position--her leaning against his chest in a half-way sitting position, while he stretched out comfortably beneath her.

"And just what do you think you're doing?"

"Going back to bed...like I said, Car...four more hours..."

"Yes, but what does your going back to bed have to do with my arm?" He cracked one eyelid open at her remark, his hand still grasping her wrist gently.

"You're warm...you're like...a nice warm, security blanket...and besides, it's freezing in here..." He closed his eyes once more and tugged on her wrist.

"Well, then I'll get you a blanket." She took her wrist back from its position in his hand, and made for the closet before a pair of arms tossed her gently on her back. She rolled her eyes and laughed at his early morning antics. She knew he valued his sleep too much to let something as little as sleeping with his partner be of any difference to his comfort. He wasn't even fully awake to comprehend anything other than more sleep and warmth. Once more, she tried to make her way off his chest and to the closet to grab a blanket, but was held in place a firm arm around her middle.

"I don't want a damned blanket. It'll just be as cold as this artic tundra you call home...you on the other hand, are already nice and warm. You'll do just fine. Now go back to sleep or I'll have to actually wake up and I really don't want to. Just...pretend you never woke up in the first place...that's what I'm doing."

"Mike...let go of me, please...I'll get you a warm blanket, promise."

"Car..I just wanna go to sleep..." he whined, trying to shove his face in the cushions.

"And you can go to sleep once you release your death grip on your 'security blanket'..." she offered as if she were trying to negotiate with a small child.

"Fine...but that blanket better be warm..." He released her and shifted to lay on his side, eyes still closed and mouth agape. Carolyn went to the linen closet and grabbed the thickest blanket she could find and took it to the dryer to warm it up. After about five minutes, she retrieved it and took it out to the living room and draped it across her snoring partner. For a fleeting moment, the snoring ceased and Mike mumbled his gratitude before falling into another fit of noise. She shook her head in laughter and went to her bedroom to sleep for another few hours.

----

When she woke up the second time, she knew it would be more than interesting trying to get her partner up and to his apartment to change and shower. It had been hard enough trying to persuade him to use a blanket instead of her body as a source of heat. Resigned, she got out of bed and made her way to the living room.

Where her partner wasn't sleeping on the couch. Her forehead creased in confusion and she went over to inspect it. Instead of an unkempt, snoring body, there was a neatly folded blanket and a small scrap of paper lying on top. In Mike's partially illegible scrawl, the note read something akin to 'Thanks for the couch. Sorry for being such a pain this morning. See you at work. And look in the fridge.' Or at least she thought it did. She could never be to sure with his handwriting...and it was completely plausible that the note said something completely opposite...especially because he called himself a pain. Which he never did...that was her job.

Nevertheless, curiosity took over, and if the note said what she thought it did, she was sure some monstrosity was awaiting her in the fridge. You just never could be quite sure with him these days...

What she found when she opened the refrigerator door, was a simple brown paper bag sitting in the center of the shelf--a brown paper bag that hadn't been there earlier. She pulled it out and surveyed the contents. One bagel and side of cream cheese. One green apple. One bottled water. And one turkey and cheese sandwhich.

Mike had packed her lunch. And, upon further inspection, had written "Carolyn's Lunch" in big, bold, black letters on the outside of the bag with permanent marker. Yes, her partner was ridiculous...but she had the distinct feeling that today was not going to be anything resembling a normal day at the office.

---

Carolyn felt like a fool carrying her brown paper bag into the squad room and did her best to try and hide the block lettering on the front, but secretly she couldn't stop smiling at the thought he put into packing her lunch. At times he could be an ass, and a player...but then there were times when, in the early light of day, he was just a silly little boy. Wanting warm blankets and packing little lunches of appreciation. And as much as he would deny it, if she hadn't brought the lunch in today, he would've moped around the office. He would've felt rejected...like a little boy. And as hard as it is to see a sad little boy moping around, it was twice as sad to see little Mike Logan moping around. But if he ever resorted to such school-day tactics as throwing paper balls or sliding a note across the desk that said: 'Do you like me, check yes or no,' she might lose it. And the moping around would be the least of her worries. Until then, she enjoyed the occasional silliness that emerged from her partner--it kept her entertained.

Plopping the bag on her desk so that the lettering faced her partner's slumped over form, she said laughingly, "Thanks for the lunch, Mike."

He looked up then, a boyish grin on his face, and said, "No problem." They shared a smile before she sat down in her chair and asked if there were any news on their case yet. "No news, yet...the files are still coming in from the Bureau…basically all we've got are your stolen ones and the ME's report." Anticipating her next question, he silenced her by tossing the medical report onto her desk. She opened it and read it greedily, happy to have something to do before all the official work came in.

Abruptly, she shuffled through the papers on her desk in search of something. Before Mike could make a smart comment, she threw out, "Mike...can you find me...the...uh, the preliminary file on Nowell Varzetti? Or any of the medical files on his previous victims?"

Mike reached into the carton that sat to the side of his desk and pulled out two semi-thick porfolios. "I have this one, it's basic information on Varzetti and his life before the murders...and then I have...this one which has basic references about the killings and some of your old notes on the case that got mixed in...either of those work for you?"

"Yes! Give me the last one...the one with my notes. I know I've got something in there." She grabbed the file from his hand just as he offered it to her. He looked at her in confusion and amusement, wondering what kind of hunch Sherlock was on already.

"Okay...you've gotta fill me in here...what are you looking for?"

Victory played across her features as she lifted out a small piece of paper with her scribbled handwriting on the front in one hand, and two autopsy photos in the other. "We have this...it coraborates Gina Marnelle's story..."

"Connect the dots for me here, Barek...I'm not seeing what you're seeing..." She walked over to his side of the desk and laid out both of the photos, first pointing to the obtrustively cut throat of Clarissa Denbow.

"This...is the autopsy photo of Clarissa Denbow. Specifically, her neck, the cause of death..." Pointing to one side of the cut, she continued, "here, you can see that the cut runs from left to right because there is a more focused point of entry here, rather than on the other side, where it tapers off.."

"And that means what exactly? You can cut two ways whether you're right-handed or left-handed..."

"Well...the problem is here..." She pointed to the second photo, "this is a photo of her wrists...which really isn't anything special except it shows exact bruising patterns..."

"Meaning that he held her down while he killed her...but we knew that already. It's the same with all the Varzetti murders..."

"No, not exactly the same...see...okay...the bruising is consistent all the way around both wrists...it's deeper where the thumbs and forefingers are...but it's still consistent bruising covering both wrists...BOTH wrists, Logan..." She looked at him with expectation, hoping he followed enough to fill in the blanks.

"If there is bruising wrapping both wrists like this, with deeper, rounded points where the thumbs and forefingers were...then a second...holy shit!" She smiled in confirmation and nodded her head.

"Yea...then a second person had to have held her hands together while he cut her...but Nowell Varzetti only worked alone…I wrote it down in my notes, here: 'the bruising on all victims is consistent with a one-man job'…"

"I think there's something Ms. Marnelle isn't telling us..."

TBC

P.S. Maybe I lied…maybe it wasn't all that much shorter and I just thought it was…hmmm. Don't forget to review, please!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimers, etc. in 1st chapter…you know the drill…

A/N: I AM SO SO SO SO SO sorry for the lack of updating this past week…ugh. You know when I said I had the fic right where I wanted it? Yea, I lied. It was nowhere near where I wanted it…so I had to steer it back on course…and I guess I won't know if I'm where I want to be until I start the next chapter…lol. But I will try my hardest for it not to be such a long time…I felt disgusted with myself for making you all wait. But I'm pretty sure some ADD-like behavior went into it…but this week is Spring Break/OGT so I'll have a little more time to try and work out the kinks.

A BIG thanks to everyone who reviewed…I know I threatened a little…but seriously, the muse stuck by my side the entire time (she just made me re-do everything like 3 times to her specifications because she didn't want to let you down)! I feel so rotten for the lack of updating after you all reviewed so well for me! I couldn't ask for a better audience! tears spring to eyes thanks a million, everybody!

Oh, and this chapter is dedicated to yamiyugistalker for her awesome B/L fic…hehe. And, of course, everyone I let down by taking so long to post again (ie: my faithful readers—if I have any left—and the forum kids!). give peace offering to make you forgive me

And, really, the bribing comes into action at the end with some fluff…it may be out of character, but I say OOC fluff is better than no fluff at all! ;) I hope you like it regardless…

Btw, this chapter gets a little gruesome and descriptive…please, let me warn you of this before you read…I tried to stay out of horrific details, but it's still not a very happy chapter (until the end)…just know that the really sick things that are said in this chapter are in no way my thoughts, they are just what this character would say…I tried to push it into character and make him a guy you just wouldn't like…

Chapter 4

"You know...if Gina's basing her entire statement around recovered memory...there's a chance that she just hasn't...you know...recovered it yet. I mean, whenever her next breakthrough is...that could piece together the entire thing with more clarity. She could remember who the other person was..." Carolyn added suddenly after hours of working nonstop at the case before them, trying to piece together the autopsy reports with the information from the files that were streaming in every so often from the Bureau.

"Or, she could be making the entire thing up to clear herself of a guilty conscience..." Mike threw out cynically.

"Are you saying that you think she assisted in the murder of her best friend and came here so she wouldn't feel as bad all these years later?" A look of shock passed over her face as she looked up at her partner's nonchalant posture. He felt her gaze and glanced up, looking as though he had been caught doing something he knew he shouldn't be doing.

"It's possible."

"Were you out to lunch during her statement? It was hard for her to even come in here and tell us her story..."

"Yea, it was hard because she helped kill her best friend and has had to live with the guilt for twelve years..."

"Mike! Her statement is the only thing that made us re-open this case...and if she had done it, she would know that we're paying more attention this time around because we're trying to see where we went wrong with the evidence in the first place. If she held down Clarissa's hands while Rick slit her throat, she'd know we'd find the bruises to prove it--especially since she ruled out Nowell Varzetti as the perpetrator. So...if she knew all this, why wouldn't she make something up? Why wouldn't she just say that Rick had the knife to her throat, threatened her with death, and made her hold Clarissa down? Or why wouldn't she just name someone else and say they held her down? Why would she just leave that out when she knows we'll find it?"

"I...I don't know...she obviously wants Rick to go down for this...so maybe she figured since we never found evidence of a two-man job before, we wouldn't be looking for it now...that we'd just interview Rick and then arrest him..."

"She's smarter than that...and she thinks we're smarter than that...if she could really remember, she'd have told us..."

"Until that's proven, I'm not letting her out of my sight..."

"You do that. But in the mean time, I'm going down to talk to Nowell Varzetti...care to join me, or is keeping an eye on our lead witness a full-time job?" She gathered her things and put on her coat, making for the elevator.

"Shut up...I'm coming...plus, keeping an eye on you is a full-time job in and of itself, Barek, I don't need more women trying to complicate my life..." Carolyn arched her brow suspectly and then rolled her eyes. He tried his best to look both hurt from her reaction and proud at his words at the same time--a look which he pulled off surprisingly well.

"That's not what I've heard...rumor is that you can 'keep an eye' on up to five girls at a time..."

"Yea, but that was before I met you, babe..." He added condescendingly, winking in her direction.

"Don't call me babe...I don't think all your other women would enjoy it if I kicked your privates into your stomach..." She offered coolly, her head lowered as she tried to hide her smirk.

"Denial...what a classic reaction to a budding attraction...I don't believe it for a moment!" She looked up immediately at his statement, shock and laughter playing across her face as she shook her head and waited for the elevator doors to open. They stepped in when the doors opened and the conversation continued.

"Believe whatever you want...but that doesn't make any of it true."

He waited until the elevator doors were shut to reply, and, seeing that they were the only two in it, crept up to her ear, saying, "Whether it's true or not, you're blushing...and I never realized the best night of my life would be sleeping--actual sleeping--in my suit clothes on a too-small couch..." Stepping back, he continued, "I didn't know that what I've always wanted would be buried in paperwork right before my eyes...that this person would be you..." Before she could speak, the elevator signalled its arrival to the lobby and he stepped out without looking for her reaction. He simply walked, cool and collected, to the parking garage for their trip to see Nowell Varzetti.

---

They had been waiting in the bare room for over ten minutes waiting for the guards to bring in Varzetti. Mike paced nervously, his eyes darting all over the room in surveillance and anticipation, while Carolyn sat contently at the table, tapping her foot impatiently. Mike's portfolio lay out before them and Carolyn picked up a pen to write in it before the questions began. They had written their main questions down in a quasi-outline earlier in the day, mainly out of sheer boredom while the files filtered in from the mail carriers. All there was left was to try and get some semblance of straight answers out of a convicted rapist and murderer--without getting lost in a game of 'he said, she said.' Carolyn was mentally evaluating the twists and turns that the conversation could take in preparation when they brought him into the room.

His lanky form was slightly hunched, blond hair falling into his face as his eyes dodged around the room. It was deja vu, really, the way he looked about the room--a version of Mike with a deep guilt. He sat with his hands folded on the table in front of him, orange jumpsuit soaking in all the attention of the room. Varzetti had darty eyes, shifting from the bars on the windows to the faces of his guards to the paperwork in front of the two detectives. He held an innate guilt about him, as though he was guilty of much more than he had been put away for--it was this feeling, this feeling that inched down your spine and made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up at attention, that captured Carolyn's attention the most. She remembered being a young detective, just out of training, seeing these horrific crimes for the first time, thinking that the sinking feeling which seemed to seep into the air around the suspect was somewhat akin to the feeling the victims had before they were murdered or abused. She hated the feeling. She hated feeling like victim--unknowing of what may happen next. She hated that, even as a professional, independent woman, she still had the reminder of evil lingering around every turn. She hated feeling that she could become anyone's next prey.

But she had only felt it four times in her entire career. The first time was her first case that came about as a gut reaction which she quickly controlled and forced into productive activity. The second time was when her partner at the Bureau thought it was his place to force her into a nonconsensual relationship, but this feeling, too, was fleeting as she regained her motor abilities. The third time was just before she transferred to Major Case--it was her last case at the Bureau, seemingly open-and-shut until the suspect had followed her from a club and knocked her around in an alley only a block from her apartment before she was able to run free.

This was the fourth, and hopefully final, time. But, this feeling, unlike the others, came from the least personal connection she had ever felt. This had come simply from his presence in the room. It was nothing tangible and something she couldn't quite shake. She tried to brush it off as she began questioning him about the Denbow case, but the way his piercing blue eyes bore into her as she spoke was unnerving. She felt heated as she tried to break his gaze; his eyes were lingering most intimately over her body in the most uncomfortable way. He had no qualms about showing his ready compliance to her questions. He was trying, in the most repulsive of ways, to be charming and charismatic. As his eyes wandered over her neck for the tenth time, she wrapped her hand around it in an attempt to conceal it from his view and still remain professional—she was trying her hardest not to be spooked.

Losing her place, she stuttered and began the question once more, "I...uhm, Mr. Varzetti, can you...ah, can you please tell us your relationship to Clarissa Denbow before the...the, ah, the events that transpired that lead to her death?" His breathing became heavier, seemingly growing with desire for her after every word she spoke. His silence made her look up from intensely staring at the note page before her. His sinister gaze fell upon her from beneath dark blond bangs. He gritted his teeth together in a painful smile as he hunched toward her, his breathing become more rapid. Carolyn visibly leaned backward, cringing slightly as she did so in anger at herself for showing fear. She knew that he thought he had her...another hapless victim sitting in anticipation of what was to happen next.

_BANG!_ The distinct thump of Mike's hands meeting cool, thin metal reverberated through the silence of the room. Varzetti looked up in shock and anger, shooting his best glare to the source of the noise. Mike leaned into his hands and came dangerously close to his face with a self-satisfied smile playing across his lips. He quirked his head, then (looking enough like Goren that it made Carolyn wonder how much time those two had been spending together), and looked square into the other man's eyes.

"I do believe Detective Barek asked you a question...a question you better answer if you want the rest of your life in here to be a little less than a living hell..." Carolyn sat back with a small smile, acutely aware of the fact that her partner had just made her life both easier and harder. Easier in the fact that the sinking feeling in her gut had all but vanished, but harder in that he had just positioned her as a woman dependent on the brawn of her partner to save her ass—not as an equal.

But she demanded some amount of respect in this arena, and she cared less about where it came from.

"I...yes...detective...I had met Clarissa Denbow through a mutual friend. He said that she was up for a night on the town and we had scheduled it for the night she died...but aside from the conversation we had about her, I had not yet met her." His eyes became shifty once more with Mike standing there menacingly behind him.

"Good, see...respect, that's all we're asking here, buddy. Just a little respect for us working stiffs...and you just showed us that you can do that...good job. Gold star for the day," Mike added in a sugary, sweetly sarcastic tone, but his sweetness turned to stone with his next question. "Now...you say you didn't know Clarissa Denbow, but you're rotting in here for her murder...so why'd you take the wrap for it if you didn't do it?"

"I just...I..." He let out a sigh as Mike eased from the table to begin pacing the room, awaiting an answer. Varzetti turned his eyes toward the table, examined it, and tilted his head upward in an almost comical position. As Carolyn observed this change in demeanor, his eyes met hers and the fear had left them. It was as if the only thing keeping him civil was Mike's incessant stare. With Mike pacing, the quiet Nowell was replaced by the cold, not-quite-suave figure that curled his thin lips into a threatening smile.

He let out another sigh, then, but this one was not out of frustration--it was borne of something more primal. It was in this instance that the shivering feeling returned to Carolyn but she did not dare look to Mike for assistance. She simply stared back at him, willing herself to be the stronger of the two.

"God, you've got a beautiful partner here, detective...I mean, she's stunning, really. Such gorgeous brown eyes that seem to melt into the pale olive of her skin. Those full brown curls catching at the subtle curve of her neck--so warm and inviting. It just makes you want to explore every inch of that well hidden body she's got hiding under all those clothes. I mean, I don't think I have to tell you how fucking beautiful she is...I'm sure you've more than imagined it, right...I mean, what's the point of having a female partner if you can't have a little fun, eh?" His sharp, cold eyes left hers for the first time and searched for a reaction from the other detective. His smile remained in place, condescending and mocking its subjects. Mike stopped with his back turned to her at the beginning of his assessment. Slowly, he turned around and faced Varzetti with a dangerous look. It was a look more dangerous than she'd ever seen on him--it did not show any emotion, but elicited the heftiest warning possible.

"Well, she's gorgeous, I'll give you that...but she's my partner. We're equals...we balance each other out in the best ways…Plus, if I ever wanted her like that, it wouldn't be because that's all she's good for. There's so much more to her than her body…and I'm lucky to have her. She's tough—always has my back, just like I always have hers. What we've got is lasting...but I guess you wouldn't understand...I mean, prisons aren't the most conducive to solid relationships. Actually, that's what got you in here in the first place, right? Those women in your life just didn't want you...you weren't their equal. So you degraded them, brought them down to your level, and then when you figured out that they were so much better than you, you killed them. But what I don't have figured is why you would take the hit for a crime you didn't commit. I mean, I understand that this is all about your pride...those women humiliated you; even after you tried to humiliate them, they always had the upper hand and you couldn't take it, so you killed them...but I don't get why you went to jail for this murder that brought you nothing. It didn't have any redemption in it; it didn't erase any humiliation...you didn't even know this girl...so why do you want the claim if you don't get any of the glory?"

"I did know her!"

"You just said you hadn't met this girl and then she wound up dead...didn't you?"

"I said I didn't know her before the night she died...I met her that night..."

"So, how'd you know her?"

"This buddy of mine...he set the whole thing up..."

"How come you never told anyone about this buddy of yours before now? Were you protecting him?"

"After that verdict, man, no one was asking any more questions...I didn't answer 'em in the first place and they didn't give a shit afterward...but if they asked me, I'd tell 'em...I figured I could get away with it if I didn't talk. I've heard all the stories. I even read that 90 of cases don't go to trial—that the suspects cop a plea and confess before trial. I figure that if I was part of that 10, I'd have a pretty good shot at goin' free. I thought wrong, and by the time I was ready to tell somebody, no one wanted to listen. Nobody was asking any questions and I wasn't tellin' any secrets..."

"You're now admitting to these crimes, right? You're admitting that you raped and killed these twelve girls? Is that what you're saying here?"

"I didn't kill the last one...that wasn't me...but no one wants to believe me when I say it...I'm convicted...who gives a fuck about whether I did it or not?"

"We do...and we're asking you now..." At his pause, Mike continued, needing to push him further. "C'mon...like you said, you're convicted...only you're convicted on twelve counts...so how about you tell us what happened to Clarissa Denbow...you've got nothing to lose here...and even if you don't gain anything, it can't get any worse than where you are now..."

"Okay, fine...you win...I'll tell you what happened that night..."

"Good...now, we're gonna need names to go with this story...so, you met Clarissa the night she was murdered through this 'buddy' of yours...what's his name?"

He paused before beginning, "Rick...His name's Rick Simmis..."

"How'd he know Clarissa?"

"She...ah, she was a friend of his step-daughter's before him and his old lady got divorced...I think...I think he said that the girls used to hang out together at the house after they came home from school..."

"So before that night, you hadn't met Clarissa...had you met the step-daughter?"

"Uh, no...no, but I think...that...her name was Gina..."

"When did you meet Clarissa? Where were you?

"I met both of them...Clarissa and Gina...at the same time. I was at my sister's when Rick called me...he said he had two sassy girls that he could hook us up with...two girls who'd be up for anything...asked if I was up for it..."

"And were you?"

"Yea...hell yea I was...he said they were young but ready for whatever we could throw at 'em...that they just wanted to have a good time...and that they'd been begging for us to come around for awhile...so I told him I was in and asked where we were meetin' 'em...he said to be at the gas station around the block from my sister's in twenty minutes. So, I threw on a pair of clean jeans and walked over..."

"What happened next?"

"He met me there, said the girls were waiting in that ugly ass old van of his and that I should buy us some stuff and we'd get on with it..."

"That stuff...condoms?"

"Yea...he said that they were ready and waiting, but that they wanted us to be careful, ya know, just incase...then, we walked over to the van and he took one, I took the other..."

"You just accepted the fact that all this was going down in a van instead of...I don't know...a building?"

"Yea...girls that age...they like it dangerous...they don't like it in the same old places...they like the adventure..." Carolyn closed her eyes to keep the wince from showing on her face as she balled her fists underneath the table. She knew it was important that she stay quiet--Mike had a distinct vibe going with him and voicing her personal issues with this man would only complicate matters. The rational part of her knew this...the rational part told her to keep her damned mouth shut and try to block out the images of shattered innocence from invading her thoughts. But the wave of nausea that overcame her was irrational...and almost consuming. So she gritted her teeth, kept silent, and waited for Mike to ask another question.

"So, you get into the van...what happened next?"

"Rick stopped me right after he opened the door...he looked the two up and down and said that he was taking Clarissa because she'd always wanted him, the way she fawned over him and led him on...got him all hot and bothered and left. She was a tease...and he wanted to show her how...much better it was to just give in. So, he said I could have the other one, Gina...his ex-step-daughter, said she was freaky as hell and would be up for whatever Clarissa was up for...said he'd had a couple of times with her and she was good...just needed someone with a lot of experience to shape her up...I mean, they were still wearing their school girl uniforms and everything..."

"What did the girls do while you were discussing this?"

"They were just sitting there, acting all coy and confused but they weren't fooling anybody...I could see right through it. We got in the van, told Gina to get in the back and I followed her back there while Rick and Clarissa stayed in the middle. Rick, man, he was good...he had her down before I even got Gina settled..."

"Before you got her settled?"

"Yea...Rick said the girls got freaked out when it came down to it, but he knew it would pass...that they'd be all for it once we started. He said they liked it rough...that he'd had some experience with both the girls and after awhile, they'd stop protesting. I was okay with that...it's better when they're scared...it's more satisfying...it's better when they scream for you to stop when you know they like it..." The man's eyes glowed in excitement at the mere memory. Carolyn tried to swallow the bile that rose in her throat. She could barely stand remaining in the same room as him. She had been around perps and perverts...but this was different...this was years later with only the jail bars to rekindle his memory. She had always been told that sexual perpetrators were unable to be rehabilitated--that this particular fondness was sewn into their personality and even behavior modification could scarcely put a dent in their desires---but she had never been faced with irrefutable proof. This man, after so many years behind bars for his acts, could not conceive that what he had done was wrong. He could not image living his life in any other way. He assumed this particular disturbance was true to all--that everyone held the same feelings and excitements. And it was in that moment that his eyes lit up that Carolyn found her proof. She almost wished they would leave his conviction alone, let him rot on death row...and the only thing that really kept her going was the opportunity of putting away another man like him.

Carolyn thanked God for never being assigned to Special Victims. She knew that, with as poorly as she was handling this confession, she could not physically, or emotionally, deal with living victims or families. She couldn't bear the gaping hole that seemed to burn through her at times like these—the mixed feeling of helplessness and disgust borne of perverts and pedophiles. At this very moment, with that feeling boring into her very center, she couldn't help but want to lock herself inside her apartment and never leave. She felt phobic in the very least--terrified of things that can and cannot be labeled. And, trying to concentrate her thinking on something other than that painful gnawing in her gut, she wondered why she wasn't phobic--why she was seemingly well-adjusted and complacent when, having seen most everything over the years, she should be anything but...

"You had," Mike hestitated slightly on the word, wanting to call it anything else, "sex with them?"

"yea...Rick finished with Clarissa and she wouldn't stop crying and screaming. I hadn't quite finished with the other one yet, but she was starting to get out of control, too, so I told him to shut Clarissa up. He beat her til she shut up. It only took a few swings and she learned her lesson...when I finished with the other one, she started crying and babbling, and then he said that he had been wrong...that doing all this right before he took them home would just make 'em talk...so we should do some stuff to guarantee their silence...that we should keep 'em for a while, scare 'em, do 'em, and show 'em how we could really fuck 'em up if they talked..."

"Is that what you did?"

"I thought it sounded like a good idea, so I agreed, but right before he went to drive away, he said that he couldn't because he had to go see his ex-wife later that night and if he wanted any action, she couldn't be preoccupied with something trivial like a missing daughter...so he kind of rambled on for a bit...kind of incoherent at times, mumbling about what we should do and why...and then he just stopped. He stopped, looked at me and looked at the girls. Gina was crying in the backseat, still mumbling and shit...and Clarissa just sat there with her shirt all torn up and gazing up at the ceiling, like she was stunned..."

"What happened next?"

"He got back into the backseat and told me that Gina was the only one in danger of talking, but that she wouldn't if we showed her how fucked she'd be if she did...said that we had to teach her a lesson...so he pulled out this knife from the ashtray in the front and waved it around in front of her face...got real close to her too, like he was gonna do it...but then he said that he'd never get any if she turned up dead, so she'd better keep her mouth shut. He said that if she didn't he'd kill her...and then he made this motion from one side of his neck to the other...he tried to pin down Clarissa, but I guess seeing that knife put some life back into her because she started kicking and screaming again...so he told me to grab her wrists and hold 'em...then he told Gina to open her eyes...he cut Clarissa, then Gina screamed and curled up into this ball and he said that if she ever said anything, he'd do that to her..."

"So you held her hands together while Rick killed her? What did you do with the body?" Carolyn looked up from the table into Mike's eyes. He was calm and his voice gentle, as if prodding a sleeping bear--not, she thought, unlike the way he was sleeping this morning. It struck her how oddly the whole scenario was playing out in her mind--how her mind flickered like a vintage movie projector with images of the confession, of waking up with Mike, of the look in his eyes when he asked the most painful questions. Something had changed, she realized, because yesterday Mike was silent during the interview...but today...today he was taking charge and pressing further.

But then again, yesterday this case was a figment in Gina's imagination, but today...today, it is real and suffocating and thick in its consequences.

"We took her out of the van, laid her out in the alley, and I walked back to my sister's. I couldn't tell ya what he did with Gina...last I saw her, she was huddled in the back, freaking out..."

"So how did you manage to get all that blood on your shirt?" Mike pulled the photographed evidence out of the file and set it out on the table in front of him. The shirt was grey with varying degrees of blood splatter caked on the front and shoulders.

"Like I said, I held her wrists...man, when you cut into a neck, the blood goes everywhere...first it spurts, then it just flows...at the beginning, it shot up, hit me in the chest and got all over my arms...then, when we put her outside, she was still bleeding everywhere--all over my shirt, the pavement, Rick's shirt...it was amazing...I've never seen anyone bleed that much, from anything..." Carolyn looked away, disgusted and cringing.

"What did you do afterward?"

"I went home, changed my shirt, and went back to watching the kids at my sister's. She was due home in a half hour...I couldn't just leave 'em there alone until she came home...there are bad people out there..."

"Yea, you're right...if that's all...?"

"Yea..that's all I got for ya, detective."

"Then thanks...and we'll get in touch if we need anything else."

"Yea, okay..." The guard escourted Varzetti back to his cell while Carolyn and Mike got up to leave. "Hey, detective Barek…you take good care of that sexy body of yours…I wanna be able to remember it until you come around here again…" Just before the guards forced him out of the room, he kissed the air in her direction and winked. Disgusted, she swallowed fiercely and walked out of the room, hoping to leave the demons of the case behind her as she went.

Mike's face was stone, set in determination, as they left the prison. Carolyn caught herself looking at him, trying to read him, and being less than successful. It wasn't until she was in the car, buckled and ready to go, that she turned to him. Still unable to read him, her forehead wrinkled in concern and her worried eyes connected with his.

"What?" he snapped, barely containing emotions suppressed for the last hour. His lips were tight and his jaw was set in anger. Carolyn simply looked at him, worried that maybe all the emotions she felt in the last hour, he had felt, too... And in that moment, with the question hanging in the air, she realized that maybe she had let him down...that maybe she had sat back while he did the hardest part of their job and never tried to help. She was embarrassed, and almost ashamed...as if she expected more out of herself—and this partnership.

"I...I let you down in there, didn't I? I...I made you take the bullet that neither of us was ready for...I'm...I'm sorry for that...I shouldn't have..." she trailed off, looking out the windshield in desperation—anything at all to get her mind on a different track. Mike didn't say anything at all when he put the car in reverse and backed out of the lot, nor did he say anything when he pulled out onto the road. It was quiet and uncomfortable, but Carolyn wouldn't look at him, afraid of what she might see on his face.

"You didn't do anything wrong...he was disgusting and it threw us both...and anyway, I made you question Gina by yourself, so it's only fair. You shouldn't feel guilty..." Drawing courage from his words, she turned to him, concern etched into the lines on her face.

"Then what should I feel, Mike? Please tell me because I can't shake this feeling in my gut--this feeling that I should be terrified and appalled and disgusted and angry...that I'm the cause of this whole ordeal because I didn't follow my gut in the first place, and now here I am again, playing second fiddle to my partner." The words rushed out in angered tones as she looked to the window once more, but she wasn't angry...it was a paradox of sorts, that she acted angry or scared when she was emotionally drained.

"This isn't you, Car...you're not angry, and you're not guilty...and you're not some angst-ridden teenager about to explode...you're just...you're tired...and you hate to think that there are people out there who act like this guy acts…it is digusting and appalling, but that's never gotten to you before…so you've gotta be tired...and I don't blame you...we didn't get a whole lot of sleep last night because of this case and now here we are, back at it, trying desperately not to kill this asshole for finding pleasure in the things that we are fighting so hard to control on the streets. I know it's hard and I know it makes you cranky...but you can't doubt yourself...you know as well as I do that Varzetti wasn't going to say anything of value if you pushed him. Right off the bat he started hitting on you, he never would've admitted to any of that with you calling the shots. He likes his women quiet, subservient...instead of giving us something tangible, he would've taken that last hour trying to bring you down and corrode your strength...damnit, look at me Car!" Mike had pulled the car over and parked, looking directly at her as she turned toward him quickly. The frustration so evident in his voice hung in the air between them. His demeanor eased a bit as he looked into her eyes. "You know he wouldn't have said anything other than lewd remarks to any of your questions--not because you're not good, but because you're a woman. In front of you, he had to show off, had to make you squirm because that's how he gets off... even more, he's seen you before--you were the woman that put him away and he never could make you as helpless as the others. I'm positive that still stings him...and reliving that would've gotten us nowhere." Mike stopped, lifted her chin up to look at her more deeply. "He knew you were uncomfortable from the beginning--not because you're unprofessional, but because this case is getting too far underneath your skin for your liking...he knew I'd kick his ass if he touched you, he sensed it right off the bat, so he shot for me instead...and when he knew I wasn't going to let him claim you as his territory, he backed off...it's a 'tough-guy' thing that even criminals understand--he understood it with Rick, his best friend, a guy he had a connection with. He thought we had a connection...so he opened up, told me the story. And as much as I'm going to piss of the feminist independent in you--that would have never happened with a woman. It just wouldn't. He wouldn't allow it. You've gotta understand that...this wasn't you playing second fiddle or whatever the hell you just said--this was you doing being a damned good detective and playing your cards right..."

"How can you deal with the fact that he seemed to find something in you that he could connect with? Doesn't that...I don't know...doesn't that make you feel disgusted? God, I sound like such a rookie..."

"You don't sound like a rookie...or at least if you do, then I do, too, because when we left that place, I was thinking the same thing...and you're right...it does feel disgusting, but I know myself, just like I know you. I know I'm not like him...and you're not helpless...and together, damn, the city better watch out...we're gonna take it by storm." His forefinger tapped along her jaw as she was poised to ask another question, but stopped, unsure.

"Why are you so good to me? Why do you take the time to make sure I'm comfortable and safe...why do you care so much about what I'm thinking or feeling? And why have you been the only one?" Her mouth twisted in amusement and perplexity as the words took hold of her. Mike let out a small laugh at her expression and brushed the hair from her eyes.

"Because you're the most professional, tough-as-nails partner I've ever had...you don't let cases get to you, and when they do, I know something's up...I can't just sit back and hope things turn out alright with you...I can't sit back and watch when you want to take on the world because it's not your job to do it alone. You've got me, Car...I'm not that guy you were once partnered with...I'm here to do my job--I'm here because this is what I love and when we're not in it together...it just feels wrong. I won't let something I love feel wrong..." His gentle touch ceased and he pulled back slightly when the words came tumbling out. Here lay his heart, he thought, open to attack...but he couldn't think of anything more right.

"Are we still talking about the job?" she asked breathlessly.

"To tell you the truth...I'm not quite sure..." He drew back and straightened in his seat, raising his eyes to the road before him. He pulled the car out of its stopped position and into traffic just before Carolyn began again.

"You just decided this conversation was over, then?" He chanced a look at her in confusion before turned his attention back to the road.

"I said too much in the first place...I just figured you'd want to drop it."

"Don't try to make up my mind for me, Mike...just because you can read me correctly half the time doesn't mean you're shooting a hundred, yet..." She looked out the window in contemplation as he continued driving.

"Well what do you want me to say? I can't very well take it back if we're going to talk about it...and I don't want to chance being seen as another lumbering jackass of a partner trying to get in your pants..."

"I'm not worried about it…you wouldn't fit into my pants..."

"That's not funny...really, here I am, trying to be the adult in this rela--whatever...trying to be an adult and you're cracking jokes. Must I remind you, my dear, which one of us wanted to continue this conversation?"

"Oh lighten up, Mike...stop being so tense...learn to live a little..." When his expression didn't change, she sighed and continued in a more serious manner, "You're not him, Mike...he was an ass and he didn't care who I was...he never tried to see me as anything else than action in a skirt...you don't see me like that...and if you do, you really do a good job of covering it. And I don't see you as him. He didn't care what I saw him as...but you, God, Mike, you were so worried what I thought about that little slip that you didn't see that I might agree with it...you're really too stubborn for your own good..."

"Wait...you mean...that it's not...not completely out of the question?"

"Well, yea...technically, it is out of the question...but I've never cared an awful lot about other people's questions...so if you're asking if it's out of the realm of possibility: not entirely..."

"Oh..."

"Though I might rescind that offer since you were so set on leaving me out of the decision..." She gave a slight pout while looking out the window at the passing buildings and people. He let out a small chuckle and shook his head before reaching his hand onto the top of the head rest, ruffling the hair on the top of her head gently.

"Yea, whatever...'lighten up, Car, learn to live a little…'" He mocked before he stopped smiling and asked, "so...where exactly do we go from here?"

"How about dinner at my place?"

"Hmm...sounds like a good starting point to me."

---

"Hands off! Mike, I'm warning you...touch it one more time and so help me..."

"The sauce needs stirring! You can't just let it stick to the bottom...then it gets burnt and...well, gross...then we'll have to throw it out and order Chinese like I suggested in the first place..."

"Nothing's getting burnt and nothing's getting thrown away...it'll be fine! Just...leave it alone or you'll screw it up more!"

"More?" Mike looked at her, horrified at the thought of eating already-tainted sauce.

"Well...we can't forget the...uh, the oregano incident..." A distinct blush crept up his neck and into his cheeks at the memory.

"In my own defense...how was I supposed to know what you were doing? For all I knew, you were...stripping or something...it took me completely by surprise..."

"I was reaching for the garlic salt, Mike! Just because I'm short and have to stretch to reach for things doesn't mean I was stripping! And for the record, it was your touching me that made the oregano fall out of my hand and into the pot…"

"Well then get a step ladder or something...your shirt coming up that far should be illegal!" She cocked her head to the side, appraising his statement critically.

"I look so bad that my bare flesh should never be seen? Wow...I mean...you're so smooth...I'm surprised it's taken me this long to make a move on you!" He took a step toward her with a dangerous gleam in his eye, backing her into the counter. He positioned her so that she was trapped between his legs.

"Oh no...not at all what I was implying...I was simply stating that this gorgeous body of yours occupies enough of my time clothed, without planting an even better image for my mental consumption," He leaned in closer to whisper in her ear, "It could be hazardous..." Trailing off, he nipped her earlobe teasingly, only further encouraged by her surprised gasp. Licking, sucking, biting, he explored the open expanse of her neck just under her ear as she closed her eyes and placed her hand on the back of his neck. She played innocently with the hair at the nape of his neck when he finally used his hands, already positioned on her hips, to push her up onto the counter. Stopping momentarily, Carolyn put a hesitant hand on his chest.

"Now we're really going to burn the sauce..." Mike reached over to grab the ladle and stir the red liquid next to him. Afterward, he pushed himself across her legs to turn the burner off and looked at her innocently.

"The sauce is fine...now where were we?"

"Mike!" she breathed out, laughing. "We can't just stop making dinner...we're gonna be hungry soon and we won't have anything to eat! Then where will we be? …we'll be in back here, in the same predicament…"

"There's only one thing I'm hungry for right now and I assure you it isn't chicken...plus, like I said, chinese food: delivers in ten minutes, tops..."

"We can't just fall into bed, Mike...I'm not that kind of girl..."

"I know that! And I wasn't suggesting it, either...I just...like being near you...how ridiculous does that sound?"

"Doesn't sound ridiculous at all...but I'm not exactly an impartial witness..." He stretched up to rest his forehead on hers, kissing her lightly on the lips as he did so.

"Does this..." he went silent, thinking over his words carefully.

"Does what?"

"This isn't going to be the most masculine sounding question, but it's...I've been thinking about it this whole night...and it won't go away until I've asked it...but, does this...does this seem a little...fast? I mean...one minute we're interviewing Varzetti, the next we're necking like teenagers...it just seems like we missed a step or something...and I don't want you to feel like we missed a step..." She pulled her head back and looked at him with a dazzling smile on her face.

"We didn't miss anything...we may have confused the steps a bit, but we didn't miss any." At his confused look, she continued, "Okay...the story goes: boy meets girl, boy likes girl, boy asks girl out—or vice versa, afterward they learn about each other, test each other out, and then they make out...in our case, we met, learned about each other, tested each other, liked each other, asked the questions, and then made out a little. I'm pretty sure that's every step...just jumbled up a bit. Feels just right to me...and plus, when have we ever played by the rules?"

"Never..." He captured her lips once more and stepped back to pull her off the counter. They made their way to the living room and Mike sat comfortably on the couch. He pulled her onto his lap--this time without any hesitation. He shifted back between the pillows and gathered her up into his arms, feet tangling with one another. He kissed her temple before whispering, "Chinese food it is, then?"

She laughed fully and happily, and made herself more comfortable in his arms. "Yea...chinese food sounds good..."

TBC

I know it's been a while, but please review…there's still some more to come…


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Disclaimers, etc. in the first chapter…

A/N: Ohhhh, back at it again! muhaha. I told you that it was just the last chapter—it was jinxed!…or at least I think that's why it took so long…but here I am, appeasing all my special reviewers (oh yea, and the readers shifty eyes lol)

This chapter is a LOT of fluff, and a little case…but what little case there is, leads to something—nope, sorry, can't tell you. I'm like that annoying voice-over on your favorite TV show when they're creating the illusion that something really tricky or really big is going to happen…I'm not sure about the something really big part, but I at least thought it was sort of tricky. It came to me after I wrote an LJ entry…maybe that should be my "process"…seems that my muse likes it there…hmmm. Enough with the ramblings!

Dedication: aww…to my favorite reviewers! ;) With a big shout-out out to my 4 forum kids…not that they're my kids…but we need some more discussion, so I figured if I gave a shout-out to them it might spur on conversation! lol. Good plan, I know…

To all my reviewers: I LOVE YOU DEARLY! Thanks for all the encouragement and for sticking with me…I hope you're enjoying it!

---

When the alarm clock went off, Carolyn rolled over, expecting to be met with a warm body, but was instead met with a warm depression in her bed. After feeling around for a few seconds, she reluctantly opened her eyes and looked around the room in confusion. She flopped on to her back and laid there in the silence, thinking how unusual it was for Mike to leave without so much as a note. Even when they had only shared a couch, he had still let her know that he was okay and had gone home to change. But now, when they had fallen asleep in each other's arms—purposefully and in an actual bed—he was nowhere to be found. She finally rolled out of bed and made her way to the bathroom, resolving not to think of it further this morning. It wasn't as though they had slept together or had done anything equally rash that may prove to be a bad decision come morning…Granted, what they had so far was innocent, but not so innocent that either would talk to anyone at the department about it…

Brushing her teeth in front of the mirror in her bathroom, Carolyn looked at her thoroughly slept-in appearance. Her hair was mussed and was sticking out in the most unusual of places, her clothes were positioned oddly, and small, faded black smudges had formed underneath her eyes from her worn mascara. Maybe, she thought, he took one look at me and left—I can't say that I blame him...

Just as she finished rinsing her teeth, two large hands wrapped themselves around her middle and a pair of lips started to tease the crook of her neck. The momentary shock wore off when she realized that the large man behind her was Mike and she relaxed into him, relishing in the early morning greeting. He smiled into her skin as she relaxed and stopped only to turn her around in his arms to face him.

"Good morning," he said with a hint of amusement in his voice. She smiled brilliantly at him.

"Good morning to you, too...now, I think I could get used to this little bathroom ritual...wakes me right up." He laughed and ran his hand along one side of her body, inadvertently pulling her closer.

"Well good, glad to hear it because I'm pretty sure I could get used to it, too..." As his words trailed off, he kissed her again, tasting the sweet mint lingering from her toothpaste. If he was being truly honest, he would admit that he had never really liked the taste of mint. It always reminded him of the times his mother had woken up in a drunken stupor, brushed her teeth to rid herself of morning breath, and knocked him around the apartment a bit before she sent him to the store down the street because she was out of one kind of drink or another. To him, mint was always laced with traces of alcohol. And the smell or taste had since made him nauseous.

Plus, he was more of a cinnamon toothpaste kind of guy anyway.

But, here, pushing Carolyn back into the porcelain of the sink, devouring her mouth with his own, he decided that he could be persuaded to like mint again. But this was no cheap, abrasive mint that his mother breathed on him in the mornings, this was something sweet and subtle and delicate. Not unlike the woman in his arms. But, damn, never tell her you think she's delicate. She might drop-kick you.

Yes, he thought, there was something different indeed. This was something he could begin to like. And this morning, when he had run to the store around the corner from her apartment for his own toothbrush and cinnamon toothpaste, he cringed at the thought of buying the mint toothpaste lining the aisles. But right now, the thought of mint toothpaste was not only welcomed—but was alluring. It was going on the list. The list of things that were made better simply because he associated them with Carolyn Barek.

The list included tastes: Kung Pow chicken, chocolate mousse, and mint toothpaste.

It included smells: coconut shampoo, peachy-smelling body wash, and...mint toothpaste.

It included sights: her hair splayed out on the pillow case when she slept, the creases in her forehead when she was confused, and the way her shirt rode up so slightly when she tried to reach the spice rack above the stove.

It included sounds: the small gasps she emitted when she was dreaming, the low moans she let out when she was truly happy, and the frustrated sighs that developed when all she wanted to do was take a break from working.

It included touches: the smooth silk of her lips under his, the sharp shock of her fingertips on his skin, and the satisfaction akin to completing a puzzle when her body molded perfectly with his.

It was the sensory list—the list that his senses had developed over the course of their partnership and, now, their relationship. It was a list that had taken hold of a corner of his brain like some type of overgrowth. It was a list of things that could never be replaced and that was always multiplying. It was a fine list...a beautiful list.

Carolyn pulled back and looked at him with a lazy smile on her face. "I look like shit...and if you don't leave this room, I'll probably end up looking like this for the rest of the day...so shoo." She made a sweeping gesture with her hands and he stepped back, giving her room to move about before he looked her up and down appraisingly.

Her normally perfectly curled hair was straight and going in different directions. Her tank top had ridden up her stomach and twisted around a bit so that a patch of skin was showing and her cleavage was more pronounced. Her makeup had worn off with slight traces leaving their marks around her eyes. But he had never seen anything so beautiful. Normally, he hated waking up with someone, fearing the same image that stood before him in the bathroom. But what he once found unattractive, he now saw as naturally gorgeous. Her toenails were painted fiery red, and her lips were a soft pink…There was nothing unattractive about this woman.

"No...I think you're wrong...you're deceptively beautiful..." She looked at him skeptically with her head tilted to the side and her hands on her hips, mirroring his own gesture.

"Oh, really..." She sidled up to him, slipping her arms in the loops created by his arms at his sides and pressed her chest into his. She looked up into his eyes and smiled at him, folding her hands behind his back. "And what, detective, makes you think that?" He looked down, taking in as much of her as his limited view would allow, but knew that he had already memorized the look of her body—this morning and every morning.

"Well, let's see...exhibit A," he said, fingering her mussed locks of hair, "is this crazy chesnut hair...I can honestly say that I've never seen anything this unruly look so appealing..."

She gave him a smirking frown as she tried to decipher whether his statement was a compliment or an insult. She reflexively lifted one hand up to push the hair down in one direction and steadied herself by placing her other hand on his lower back. He gently grasped her hand just before she smoothed her hair down the second time and held in his own.

"Don't...you're messing with the evidence! Now...like I was saying, exhibit B, " he continued, gingerly lifting the hem of her tank top, "...exhibit B is the disheveled nature of these clothes you're wearing which show off just enough of your curves to make me go a little insane just thinking about them..." He pulled his hand from his hip and set it on the curve of her waistline, guiding it down her body as he spoke. She closed her eyes and set her forehead on his shoulder, tightening her arm around his waist, and let out a moan of happiness.

"I think you've made your case, detective..."

"You think so? Because if not, I've got plenty more exhibits I could show the court..."

"No, I think these two will suffice for now...you better save the rest for the next time you screw up..." She said as she winked at his offended look.

"I'll have you know that I am always on my best behavior...and anyway, I don't have to worry about saving up material, there's something new I find everyday..." She gave him a gentle shove as she disentangled herself from him.

"You are so full of it...go make yourself useful somewhere else, I've gotta take a shower..."

"Who says I can't be useful in the shower?" She smiled, rolled her eyes at him, and lightly pushed him out the door before she stripped off her top. He caught only the slightest glimpse of skin before he shut the door in front of him and sighed, resigning himself to breakfast duty.

---

When they arrived in the squad room, Deakins had left an urgent note on Carolyn's desk demanding information on the interview with Nowell Varzetti. Since she arrived first (Mike still had gone home to change and shower at his apartment after they finished their breakfast), she made her way into Deakins' office. She left a note on Mike's desk to have him meet her in the office should she still be in there when he showed up.

Mike waltzed in about ten minutes later, looking refreshed and blithe—in the past, a sure sign of a night out on the town with one of his 'dates,' but this time, Carolyn felt a slight blush rise in her cheeks at the thought of putting him in that particular demeanor simply by being with him. It was unusual, she thought, for him to be this happy over one night that included no sex. Especially for him. But there it was: Mike Logan, happier than she'd seen him in months, if not longer.

He strolled into Deakins' office after dropping his things off at his desk, and took his seat next to her wordlessly.

"Nice of you to show up today, Logan...now, I was saying…we've got corroboration on Ms. Marnelle's account of the incident from Mr. Varzetti, is that correct?"

"Well, uh...yes, sir?" Carolyn stated uneasily.

"Was that a question or a statement?"

"A little of both, sir..." Deakins looked up with his patented 'I'm confused' look and questioned her to explain. "You see, sir, the marks on Clarissa Denbow's wrists were never explained in Ms. Marnelle's account of the events, but they were explained in Varzetti's account..."

"So what are we looking at, here? A credibility problem? Or do the accounts not match up?"

"Well, neither, sir...the accounts match, but there seem to be...blank spots in the Marnelle account that were settled by Varzetti...for example, sir, he claimed that there were two assaults. One on Ms. Denbow and one on Ms. Marnelle herself. Varzetti said that this Rick Simmis assaulted Ms. Denbow, which matches up with the account given by Ms. Marnelle, but he also said that he raped Ms. Marnelle, which she neglected to provide in the statement..."

"I'm assuming you have a theory as to why she left out that vital bit of information?"

Nodding, she continued, "Yes, sir, I believe that since she was acting off what are deemed as recovered memories, she simply hasn't recovered this part of the account yet..."

Looking at Mike, Deakins offered, "But you hold a different belief, Logan?"

Slightly shocked, Mike answered, "Well, no...that's one way to approach it...but I don't think it's out of the realm of possibility that Ms. Marnelle isn't telling us everything she knows..."

"If you were given a second interview with her, do you think you could get it out of her?"

"With all due respect, sir, we don't even know what she's hiding--"

"Or if she's hiding anything..." Carolyn interrupted.

"Okay...so all we've got here is the bare minimum statement by Ms. Marnelle and the graphic, sordid statement given by a convicted felon...you guys are really selling me on a conviction, here..." Deakins added sarcastically. "Keep looking...and keep the updates coming..."

"Yes, sir."

---

Upon returning to their desks, Mike and Carolyn sorted out all the information they had on Rick Simmis. The problem was that the information they already had didn't add up to very much. Hoping that Gina Marnelle could fill in their blanks, they called and left two messages requesting her presence at Major Case for 'follow-up details.'

They had stopped making phone calls two hours ago. There was no sign of her, and the case was quickly coming to a screeching halt. The only things they needed at the moment seemed elusive at best.

Mike had resorted to balling up scraps of paper and making aims at the trashcan, simulating a basketball game. Carolyn, a little more productive, had taken to exhausting any possible avenue of information--including Sally in reception who seemed to know everything about everyone--including the perps, which, come to think of it, had always freaked Carolyn out a little bit. And, going down that avenue of thought, she wondered if Sally had figured out the difference in relationship between her and Mike. As she thought about ways to cover up any suspicious behavior, Mike had turned his attention back to the computer screen and was clicking, it seemed, at random.

At least it seemed that way until his eyes widened and he called out her last name hurriedly, breaking her attempts to uncover a fool-proof plan to hide their secret from Sally…A plan that included never riding to work together—but hadn't gone further than that.

"What?"

"What was your partner's name at the Bureau?" Well, she thought, so much for thinking that Mike was actually working. She sighed and arched an eyebrow in his direction.

"Mike...he's...you can't beat him up..." She laughed at him, stopping when he looked at her with serious eyes. "Special Agent Richard Smart...because I always thought that was something of an oxymoron...why?"

"Did he have any nicknames? Like...Dick or Rich or anything?"

"Some of the guys called him Rich, why?"

"Oh nothing...just...wondering..."

"Okay...well, stop wondering and find me some information on Rick Simmis...I've got nothing over here..."

"Was he ever married or anything?"

"Uh, yea...once, I think, before I worked with him...it didn't last long...not that I blame her for not wanting to stick around with that scumbag...Mike, will you tell me what this is about?"

"Not yet..."

"Okay...well, we can play Twenty Questions about my ex-partner some time when we don't have a murderer to put in jail...so, in the mean time, find me some information on Rick Simmis..."

"Okay…" Mike paused a beat before reading off the screen in front of him, "Rick Simmis, age 39, married once to a Toni Marnelle; one step-daughter, Gina Marnelle. No siblings of any kind, and no...parents of any kind. Never adopted, never put in foster care, never put into the system until his marriage to one Toni Marnelle. No existing records of birth or subsequent social security number, one arrest but the charges were dropped, no speeding tickets, no driver's license...the only records on file are a request for a new social security number and a marriage certificate. The stated reason for a new social security number: a records office which held his birth certificate and his original social security number had a computer-system failure in which caused the mysterious loss of two birth certificates and two social security records...one of those being our buddy Rick…"

"Wait...I don't get it...it's almost as if he didn't exist… "

"That's exactly my point...Rick Simmis is an alias. An assumed name for a man leading a double-life. A smart man...a man with connections..."

"Does it say who the name is an alias for?"

"No...but it's got fingerprints from the one arrest."

"And? Did you run them?"

"Yea."

"Well? Any matches?"

"Yea. One positive identification."

"To?"

"One positive identification match to one Richard Smart--R.S., Rich Smart...or, in this case, Rick Simmis."

TBC—dun dun DUN! Tricky, I know...(don't forget to review, please! ;) )


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Disclaimers, other junk in Chapter 1! 

A/N: ACK! I am terribly sorry for the long wait…I feel so…useless.  But, in my own defense, it was basically because after I dropped that bombshell (which, apparently, was only a bombshell to myself…lol), I just couldn't think of anything worthy enough to follow. But then, I got burned one day at work because I'm stupid and I touched a heater when it was on…and so the scenario with the water and such happened to me and I said…hmmm, if only I had a Mike who would take care of me…and it blossomed from there. Then, I got hit with a crapload of schoolwork (papers and such), to which I abandoned you. For this I am sorry. Though, I must say, since the partial end of my schoolwork and my return to my home from vacation, I have this lovely new chapter.

Let me tell you now that I am not, nor do I pretend to be, any good at smut or smut-like scenarios. But, if it's really that terrible, just laugh at it and say: well she tried.

I figured that the absence warranted something really good…like some good lovin'. lol. So, I offer this up for my absence. Please tell me how I did…even if it's a: NEVER DO THAT AGAIN! lol.

Chapter 6…the long-awaited.

"Fuck!" Mike bounded up from the sofa into the kitchen where Carolyn stood above a sink full of soapy water, staring at her left hand. His worried expression faded a bit as he looked at her concentrated face. She stared at a spot on her palm and bit her lower lip as she applied pressure just around the spot with her right hand. The tips of her fingers turned white from the force as she blew on the spot gently. It seemed that she had not even noticed that Mike had rushed into the room when she yelled, and she continued to concentrate on eradicating the pain from her hand.

"Hey...whatcha got there," he said, stepping closer to her and reaching for her hand. Still grasping her hand, she thrust it out of his touch while she turned her back to him.

"Nothing...I'm fine." His eyebrows quirked up and he came up behind her, standing just over her shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and pried her right hand from her left. She tried to wriggle out of his grasp and, finally, without succeeding, turned around in his quasi-embrace.

"What'd you do?"

"Nothing."

He traced the spot on her palm lightly, saying, "This doesn't look like nothing...it's obviously a scar, but the question remains: where did you get it?"

"It's a scar from an old burn, okay? No big deal..." He ducked down to look into her eyes and smirked.

"If it were no big deal, I wouldn't have heard you shouting obscenities all the way from the living room!"

She conceded, watching him skeptically as he examined the spot and let out a gentle breath across it. Her lips formed a natural frown as she watched him, waiting for him to cause her some sort of pain. As he lowered his head to kiss her palm, his other hand caressed the exposed skin at her hip.

Mumbling into her skin, he asked, "Better?"

She nodded as he kissed her forehead and grasped lightly at her hip to pull her into the living room.

"You going to tell me what you were yelling about in there?" he asked as they sat down on the couch. He shifted his body to lay his back against one of the arms and one of his legs lay alongside the back while the other hung off the edge. He took her wrist in his hand and pulled her roughly down into the space between his legs and wrapped his arms around her. She shifted in his lap to make herself comfortable and laughed when he let out an exasperated groan.

"mmm...this is almost comfortable..." He let out a laugh at her sarcasm and nipped at her earlobe. "Hey!" she huffed in mock anger, "Keep that up and we'll see if you get any tonight..."

"In my own defense, that was for ignoring my question...and I think you know as well as I do what other...things...I can do with my teeth that you wouldn't object to..." He smiled into the crook of her neck as he planted a trail of open mouthed kisses from her ear to her chin. At his comment, the tips of her ears and her cheeks grew a faint crimson and she bit her lip in expectant pleasure. His lips stopped when she let out a soft moan. When he stopped, she turned her head to face him and gave him her best look of annoyance. His head flopped back onto the arm of the couch and he let out a full laugh at the look on her face. "No more until you tell me what hurt so badly in that other room--and why it hurt so badly..."

Resigned, she laid her head on top of his chest and sighed. "Now that's just mean, Mike. Withholding sex for information..."

He cleared his throat and gave her an incredulous look. "But that's what you just did!...Hey! No changing the subject!" He tightened his embrace of her middle as she snuggled herself deeper into him.

"It worked for a little bit, didn't it?" She looked up into his face as his mouth quirked to the side and his eyebrows furrowed as if in deep thought.

"Yea, for a little bit...but no more...answer the questions..." He gave her a pointed look to which she pursed her lips and let out another sigh.

"Okay...it's a burn scar and it hurts when it comes into contact with hot water. It feels like I'm burning it all over again, that's all...not a big deal. I don't know why you made such a big fuss about it, Mr. Overprotective..." He feigned shock as she hit him gently in the chest, rolling her eyes.

"Me? I'm not the one who just spend the better part of twenty minutes refusing to talk about a burn scar...what did you think I'd do? Kick you out or something?"

"No, considering it's my apartment..."

"You know what I meant..."

"It's just...I...I don't know..."

"I think, Detective, that there is more to this story than you're willing to own up to...spill it...please"

"Well with manners like those..." He gave her a pointed look and after a beat she continued. "Fine...I got it that...that night..."

"That night? What night?"

"The night my ex-partner...you know..."

"The night he tried to take advantage of you?"

"Yea..."

"How'd you get it?"

"There was a candle lit on this coffee table where we had all our files...so when we were...wrestling around, I grabbed onto the table before I fell to the ground, only I missed the edge of the table and I grabbed onto the candle instead...It knocked over and, luckily, it went out before anything caught on fire, but it burned my palm pretty badly in that spot." She pointed to the inside of her palm and traced the glossy skin with her forefinger. Mike untangled one of his arms from her body and caught her hand in his, grasping the back of her burned hand and lacing his fingers between hers. He brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed them, giving her a gentle squeeze as he did so.

"Why are you so terrified to tell me about that night? Is it because I'm your bulky male partner or is it because I actually care about you as more than just a sexual object?"

"No, it's got nothing to do with you...I just...I don't like to talk about it...because of me."

"Does it still scare you to think about it? The what-ifs?"

"No...at least not really...I used to have nightmares once in awhile about the what-ifs...I guess...I guess I'm just afraid that if I talk about it, all those memories will resurface and I'll start thinking about it again. I don't want to think about it. It's my past...I don't like to dwell. I don't want to be one of those women who got away and still can't shake the feeling of being a victim, even if she never was one..."

"Sooner or later, you're going to have to talk about it...to someone. You're going to have to relive those moments...that's the nature of life. I guess...I guess what I'm trying to say is what's so wrong with reliving it with me by your side? You know I've got your back whether you need it or not...so even if you do start to dwell, I'll be there to pick up the pieces and make you...whole...again."

"Like humpty dumpty?"

"Something like that..."

"But this Humpty Dumpty got pushed off the wall, grabbed a tree branch and has been living in that branch ever since...she's fine. She's not broken. She IS whole."

"Okay...well, there's this annoying little thing called gravity...it pulls you down whether you want it to or not. Gravity's going to get you off that branch. Today, tomorrow, ten years from now...but it'll happen. And what I'm saying is...well...I'll always be there to catch you--to be your big mattress pad at the bottom of the tree that makes sure you come down intact with all your pieces in their right places. I'll be there today, tomorrow, ten years from now...I'm just saying that...why live in that tree longer than you have to? Why not just make that leap right now and get back up on your feet and rule the world again?"

"Humpty Dumpty didn't rule the world..."

"Well, maybe he should have..."

"You make no sense sometimes, Mike..."

"Are you saying that after all that thinking I did about metaphors and Humpty Dumpty, mattress pads, and gravity, you didn't understand any of it?"

"No, that part I got...it was the ruling of the world thing that got me..."

"Well...you rule my world...does that count?"

"hmm...yea, I'd say that counts for a lot...especially since it's so damned cheesy..."

"Cheesy is one thing I'm good at."

"Cheesy sayings aren't the only things that come from those lips that you're good at..."

"I think I understand your point there..." He said, nipping at the spot on her neck that made her moan. She tilted her head to the side to give him easier access and lifted her hand to the back on his head, urging him on.

She let out a shallow breath and gasped, "Yea...yea, I think you...ohhh...I think you've got it..." She closed her eyes and let the sensation of his lips and tongue gliding furiously across her skin overwhelm the power of her speech for a moment before she tried to form words once more. "I, uhm, I think maybe...maybe I should, oh...uhm, I should tell you stories from...uhm, from my past more...oh, morrrre" She hummed out before continuing,"...I mean, uhh…more often..." He teased the skin behind her earlobe, smiling into her skin as she shuddered and pressed into him. She bit her lip fiercely as she did so, barely repressing another moan.

He managed a, "Shhh..." before she clutched onto his legs positioned around her waist and arched her back into his body. She mumbled an "uh-huh" as she dug her nails into his thighs, remaining pressed into him, clearly intent on letting him set the pace.

Moving to the hollow of her throat, he mumbled, "Maybe we should take this into the bedroom?" Panting, her hands traveled up his thighs and strengthened her hold on his muscular legs as she fought the urge to flip over, straddle him, and take him right there on the couch. She felt the distinct impression left by her teeth on her bottom lip growing in ferocity.

The only answer to his question was a load moan. "Car? Bedroom? Now?" She grabbed his roaming hands that were stealthily making their way through the buttons on her shirt. She pulled herself to her feet to face him and grasped his hands which immediately settled on her hips to pull her forward to him. Her shirt fluttered open at the sudden movement and he pulled back one half of the shirt by its hem and made a trail of kisses across her abdomen. Her fingers threaded through his hair as his other hand found its way to her back.

"Mike..." she moaned, "I thought you were...saying something about the...bedroom?" He let out a sigh into her skin, just below her cleavage, and drew back slowly. He looked up into her eyes and saw the same dark lust in her eyes that was evident in his own. A rough grunt came from his throat as he hoisted himself off the couch and onto his feet. As he stood up, he swept her up into his arms and side-stepped the coffee table in front of them to make his way to her bedroom.

Her harsh breathing gave way to a deep, throaty chuckle that enveloped the space around them. Mike's quick pace slowed and he stopped in the hallway connecting the bedroom and the living room. He dipped his head to kiss her: roughly, deeply, passionately. She slide out of his arms and pulled his face to hers, pressing them backward to the wall. He took his hands, roaming over the contours of her body, and placed them on the back of her thighs and lifted her up roughly. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her lips found his as she ripped the buttons on his shirt from their resting places in their sockets. His lips danced across every inch of her exposed skin and she placed her hands on either side of his head to bring his mouth back to hers in a hungry kiss. He backed them away from the wall and steered them blindly toward the bedroom, the passion only building as their lips collided time and time again. He took her bottom lip between his teeth and tugged gently, devouring her so completely that it sent shivers down her spine.

Fumbling his way through her bedroom door, he bumped his leg against the door and tumbled backward until he reached the bed. Her legs tightened around his waist as they fell into a relaxed sitting position at the foot of the bed. The movement of her muscular legs around his created a tension much more palpable than ever before. He ran his tongue across her lips as she felt his excitement growing and her own heart skipped a beat.

Gasping desperately, Mike pulled her face from his between kisses and, spoke waveringly, feeling his own resistance slipping, "Are you sure about this? Are we...are we ready for this?" He rested his forehead against her, letting out deep breaths across her neck. She shifted herself upward, tightening her legs around his middle, and kissed him soundly.

"I'm more than sure...I want this...and I want it tonight...no looking back, right? Just moving forward?" She pushed him backward and straddle his hips, unbuckling his jeans in the process. She leaned down to kiss him, coming within inches of his face before his forefinger rose up to rest on her lips. She stopped and pulled back slightly, looking at him with a confused and pained expression. He brushed his thumb across her lips lightly and, for the second time that night, she felt a distinct shiver run up her spine.

"We can't just ignore the past--mine or yours. We can't be doing this to avoid revisiting the past. That's not what this is about...and if it is, I think I should leave." He looked straight into her eyes and watched as she debated her next words. She bit her lip and let out a soft whimper. Her hands came to his opened shirt and toyed with the buttons while she spoke, unable to meet his eye.

"That's...th--that's not what this is about...I just...I'm not sure where this is going...I just know that I'm going along for the ride, where ever it leads. I'm not trying to run away from what's happened and I'm not going to run away from whatever happens here..." she sat up straight and heaved a heavy sigh. "Damn, Mike...I just want to be happy. I want to be happy and comfortable and...you know, loved. I wouldn't be going into this if I thought I wouldn't be all that with you." He brushed the hair out of her eyes and pushed himself up to kiss her once more.

"I want to make you all that...I want us to be happy and comfortable...I just want us to be ready because…really don't want to fuck this up, you know? Not with you." She managed a weak smile and traced her fingernail down his bare chest with the minutest pressure. She looked up into his eyes as her fingers came to rest upon the button of his jeans. She gave him a devilish smile and leaned over to whisper in his ear.

"I should hope not...plus, after this build up, the only way we could fuck this up would be to stop...so…where were we?" She winked at him and he grinned widely as he slid her shirt off her shoulders.

TBC

R&R PLEASE! I beg of you! 


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimers and other information, see chapter 1.

A/N: I know it's been a terribly long wait, but finals and school are over, so it should be smooth sailing from here on out. crosses fingers should be, at least. I have to clean soon, but I wanted to get this part up as soon as it was finished so that you all wouldn't think I fell off the face of the earth. Which I didn't. I know some of you have bugged me about this chapter and my slowness, so this one's for you along with a bright shiny bow and a little tag that says, "sorry." lol. This was a nice transition chapter and the beefy stuff comes next, or so I hope. The next chapter's started already and everything, so it shouldn't be too long…ha.

Please enjoy and review, even though I neglected you for a month…it's still absolutely fabulous to read what you have to say!

Chapter 7

It had been two days of nothing. Two days of sitting at their respective desks, making phone calls to endless amounts of secretaries, receptionists, and agents at the Bureau on the whereabouts of Richard Smart. It was that first day when they had found the information linking Agent Richard Smart to Rick Simmis, that they found how difficult their seemingly easy discovery would become. Richard Smart had conviently gone on vacation the previous week and, seeing as he had at least two months vacation time saved up, no one expected him back until then. To make matters even more difficult, Agent Smart had been as unspecific and elusive as possible in arranging his vacation plans. There was one ticket for a flight out of LaGuardia booked under the name 'Richard Smart' to Las Vegas, but the ticket had never been picked up and the seat sat empty on the ride. In Vegas, there was a three-star hotel with a room reserved under the same name, but no one had checked in there, either---under any name.

As for 'Rick Simmis,' there was one rental car that had been picked up and paid for the previous week. It was a black Lincoln Navigator, but it turned up in New Jersey along with an unsuspecting twenty-two year old college co-ed who had been paid $200 to pick the car up and drop it off. As for the man who paid her, he worked down at the local pub where the girl and her friends occasionally went after a long week. He said one of his patrons, one Jimmy Smith, told him to give it to the girl.

Jimmy Smith, like Rick Simmis, was the invisible man. But this character had no wife, no children, and no affiliation whatsoever. There were no records and no identification. The name was easily added as yet another alias to the elusive Richard Smart.

And as for travel plans, Jimmy Smith, Jim Smith, James Smith, J. Smith, and every other variation of the name had almost infinite plans and they all checked out. Jimmy Smith was a butcher in Queens who took his wife to Detroit for their 42nd anniversary. Jim Smith was a business man from Manhattan who was in Tokyo for a marketing conference. James Smith was a contractor out of Ohio who was flying home to his wife and kids after three months on a job just outside the city.

But, there were two 'J. Smith's. One was an accountant flying to London to visit his mother. The other was Jake Smith, a graduate student at NYU.

It seemed, no more than ever, that every supposed lead was, in fact, a lead to nowhere.

They had pulled his service record from within the Bureau and talked with his current partner who, if he knew anything in the first place, wasn't giving up anything useful. The lack of cooperation was getting to both Mike and Carolyn by the end of the second day and it had gotten to the point that Mike had given up even trying to make Carolyn smile, let alone laugh. His tactics had lasted through the beginning of the second day, but shortly after lunch, he couldn't even muster a simple joke. She would look at him, sometimes, throughout the day and turn up the corner of her mouth into an almost smile, letting him know that she was aware of the effect her mood was having on him.

She hated being in the Bureau offices. There were fake, unappreciative smiles and rude, unusual people willing to take one for "the team" even if it meant letting a murderer walk away scott-free. Most of all, she couldn't help but hate to be back in the place that she had sacrificed part of her career for--especially when it gave her nothing but grief in return.

She knew it wasn't fair that her predictably sour mood was bringing him down. She even took him to lunch at his favorite pizzeria for a little 'pick me up,' but to no avail—her mind was officially stuck on this case and all that came along with it. There was nothing uplifting about the past few days. Not even the memory of their night together made the next few days at all bearable. It wasn't until dinner on the second night that things started to look up.

They sat across from one another in Carolyn's dining room, Chinese takeout sitting on top of the files spread out on the table between them. Carolyn stabbed the Kung Pao chicken savagely and looked frowningly at the string of dead-end information before her. Mike, looking equally displeased, looked up at the loud grunt that erupted from her throat. His sudden movement caused her to glance up at his surprised face.

"What?" she grumbled, looking back down in concentration.

"Did you just grunt?" Mike asked incredulously. She narrowed her eyes at him and shot back a retort of her own.

"Like worse noises haven't come out of you in the last ten minutes." Her tone was clipped and bitter, taking out all the frustration caused by the case on him. He looked at her then--with her tired eyes and prominent frown--and smiled, full and bright. Exasperated, she sighed and asked, "What's the matter with you?"

He pointed a finger at her, goofy smile still plastered on his face, and commented accusingly, "You are beautiful." Her frustrated look turned to confusion and he continued, "It isn't fair. Ever since...that...happened, we haven't gotten a break on this case. Much less a break to...well, you know...and it just isn't fair that you're sitting across from me looking all pouty and gorgeous and I can't make a move until something good happens because you'd kick my ass...I say if you are going to sit over there being a tease, you could at least have the courtesy to smile at me once in awhile...it gives a guy a little hope that he isn't stuck in the gutter for much longer..."

She smiled at him then--a sweet, purposeful, slow-spreading smile that twitched up the corners of her mouth in the most curvaceous of ways. It was a warm smile: inviting and deep, intimate and cherished. Mike stared at her in awe for a moment before jokingly adding, "Never mind...don't smile. It just makes me want you even more. God...I just can't win here...I give up!"

"Mike, calm down and finish noting the leads." She was unable to take the smile off her face as she berated him gently.

"You mean the dead-ends, don't you?" She gave him a slight grimace at the truth behind his joking comment.

"Well, what other choice do we have?"

"I know, I know...I just...I hate it when we can't go anywhere with this investigation..."

"We're not at a stalemate just yet--and I don't plan on getting there--we've got an interview scheduled with the ex wife and her new husband tomorrow at...uhm...at 10. So, hopefully we'll get some information there, right?" She looked at him hopefully and he smiled back at her, happy to have found his hope in the midst of an otherwise hopeless case.

"Right."

---

Toni Marnelle's home with her new husband, Kevin, was an ordinary little house set out in the suburbs: cream house with green shutters, a lively flowerbed next to small basketball court set up in the driveway, and complete with a large golden lab bounding up the front walk. Bounding up the front walk toward Logan, that is.

Carolyn looked behind her to the stunned face of her partner as the dog lifted itself into its hind legs and greeted him, panting its dog breath all over him. Mike leaned backward and grimaced at it, obviously not as intrigued with the dog as it was with him. Clapping her hands below her waist, Carolyn motioned for the dog to sit down on the sidewalk. The dog looked at her somewhat skeptically, as though appraising the command, and, finally released his captive.

"Skippy! Come here!" The dog whipped its head to look at the origin of the voice and went running after it. A somewhat tall, skinny woman with a shining, pale face came walking toward them with a bright smile playing on her pink lips. She looked slightly mischievous and ridiculously happy considering the two frustrated detectives meeting her at the end of the walk. When she reached them, she stuck out her hand to shake theirs and provided, "Hello Detectives, I'm Toni Survette...and that was Skippy, she's a little overzealous, I'm afraid..."

Carolyn pointed between them as she made their introductions and proceeded to followed Toni down the walk to the house. Upon entering the house, they were taken aback at the loud shriek that came from the next room. Toni motioned for them to hang their coats on the rack next to the door and called over her shoulder that she would be right back. Shortly after she disappeared into the next room, a little girl came running through the alcove, her disheveled brown hair hanging in two loose pigtails. She let out another excited shriek as she blew past them, one shoe on her foot, one in her hand as she ran into the kitchen unbalanced. Toni came back into the room, an exasperated look on her face as she gave them a knowing smile and sat her daughter down on the kitchen table to put on her other shoe.

"Don't mind Kierstyn," she said, tying the shoe, "she's a hyperactive little two year old...keeps me occupied. I...umm...you said you had some questions for me?" She turned her head to look at them over her shoulder as she finished the bow. It was Carolyn that began the questions as Mike looked at the little girl in half terror, half amusement.

"I, uhh, yes. We were wondering if you could answer some questions about your ex-husband, Rick Simmis?" Toni's eyes clouded a bit and her smile fell as she pulled her daughter off the table and into her arms.

"Why don't we go into the living room and have a seat?" She past them into the living room and sat the little girl down on her lap as she motioned for them to sit. "What would you like to know, detectives?"

"We were wondering how long it had been since you had contact with him last?" She toyed with her daughter's pale pink skirt before she continued. Sensing her mother's discomfort, the little girl jumped down from her place perched atop her mother's lap and ran over to Carolyn. She looked at Carolyn intently as her mother began answering the question.

"I spoke with him about three weeks ago. He paid his latest check and I haven't spoken with him since. We aren't on the greatest of terms. The only contact I have with him is when he signs those damned meaningless pieces of paper over to me." Confused, Carolyn looked at Mike who simply shrugged at her.

"I'm sorry...we don't have any record of any child support...or any record of children he had with you..."

"Oh...well, you won't find any records to that effect. His child support isn't court mandated...it was part of the arrangement we made after getting divorced. We were going through the proceedings when I found out that I was pregnant with Kierstyn, so he made a promise to me that he would pay me about four hundred a month after she was born because he knew he wouldn't get to spend much time with her. Not quite the equal trade for her, but…" she looked over to her daughter who was still standing in front of Carolyn, interested in this new woman more than the conversation. "…he was really supportive...even when I got remarried. He said that even while Kevin was around, he would still help out--that he felt like he was connected to his girl that way. He stops by around the holidays to spend some time with her, but other than that, he's always working...which is actually one of the reasons we got divorced." Kierstyn gave a little wave to Carolyn, and seeing her wave back, the little girl crawled up onto the couch. She sat beside Carolyn for a moment, appraising her carefully. Deciding that it was safe, she moved Carolyn's arm aside and snuggled herself into her lap, smiling sweetly as she did so. When the little girl plopped herself down on her lap, Carolyn's eyes got big and she looked at the little girl in surprise. Kierstyn just giggled and buried her head in Carolyn's arms, blushing the same color as her skirt. Noticing her daughter had wormed her way onto the detective, Toni let out an exasperated, "Kierstyn...get off of her...I am so sorry...Kierstyn!"

Amused by the little one in her lap, Carolyn just smiled brightly and said, "Don't worry about it...she's fine. She's not bothering me if she wants to sit..."

"Are you sure? She'll get off if you tell her to..."

"Nah, she's fine..." Carolyn looked down and gave Kierstyn a reassuring smile. "Now, umm...you said 'one of the reasons you got divorced,' what were the other reasons, if you don't mind us asking?"

"No, I don't mind at all...Rick...he was always such a...workaholic. It became harder and harder to have a real relationship with him...and even harder to remain in a one-sided relationship. Especially...especially the last few months...he became," she hesitated a bit before continuing, "he was darker...more aloof toward the family. He either stopped caring at all...or he cared so much that..."

"That? That he became violent?"

"Yes...but only twice and it took quite a build up to get to that point...The thing that really got me about those two times was that...he never made apologies for the way he acted. I mean, I probably wouldn't have listened if he did, but somehow I thought he would...he just never did...and that struck me as odd...he ceased to be the man I married."

"I see...was he violent toward you, Gina…both of you?"

"No, not Gina. He never laid a hand on her. He always sent her out of the room before we fought. He tried to shelter her a lot. After our fights, he would go into her room and make sure she was okay...that she knew we still loved her. I think I stayed with him the most for that reason...he was always there for Gina. And even if he did become violent, he would leave for a couple hours, come back home, check on Gina, and go sleep on the couch. It really touched me that he still cared for her even while we were fighting. I guess I didn't want her to lose that." Toni looked at the carpet, contemplating the time with a solemn face.

"So, you have no recollection of his ever abusing Gina?" Toni looked up, stunned and confused. Kierstyn shifted in Carolyn's lap and stared at her with a smile on her face, unsure of what was going on.

"N--No...I know Rick wasn't exactly a great guy, but he wasn't...he wouldn't...he spent his entire career trying to find murderers and pedophiles...he would never...wh--why?" She looked between Mike and Carolyn, confusion and frustration playing across her face. Mike looked at Carolyn and nodded his assent for her to explain the case. She looked at him determinedly for a moment before beginning.

"Ma'am...we have reason to believe that Mr. Simmis is actually an alias for a man named Richard Smart, an agent at the FBI, and that he was abusing your daughter during the time you were married. We also believe that he played a role in the murder of Clarissa Denbow. We need any information you can give us about his relationship with Gina or his current whereabouts." Toni clasped a hand over her mouth and stared across the room in a daze. When she began to speak, her voice was quiet and muffled only minutely louder as she continued.

"Oh God...I...I never...he was always so good with her. I never suspected...oh my God, he was always with her. He spent so much time with her, I should've known...he...he said that she loved to talk to him, to tell him how her day was, what she learned...I just accepted the fact that she was close to him...I didn't even think that he could be...what did I do? Oh God..."

"Were there any special times when he liked to talk to her? When he came home, after dinner, during a hard case?"

"No...they were always together...I can't even think if it was at certain times...no...it didn't matter...he was always with her...oh God, I think I'm going to be sick...excuse me." Toni sprinted from her position on the couch and down the hallway, looking disgusted and hopeless. Carolyn shot Mike a look, not at all happy with the limited information they were given. He gave her a slightly exhausted smile to reassure her.

"Hi! My name's Kierstyn...what's your name?" Carolyn looked down at the little body sitting precariously on her lap. The little girl smiled at her, small dimples forming at either ends of her lips, and Carolyn couldn't help but smile back.

"I'm Carolyn and that," she pointed across the coffee table, "is Mike." Kierstyn waved her hand at him in a grand gesture and he waved back, laughing as he watched her. She giggled and blushed as he waved and watched as he looked at Carolyn with a smile on his face. Kierstyn brought herself up onto her knees and moved to whisper into Carolyn's ear, holding a small hand over her lips to conceal the information from Mike.

"I think he likes you!" Kierstyn looked into Carolyn's laughing eyes and fell back onto her lap, covering her face and giggling uncontrollably. Carolyn let out a small laugh and shook her head in Mike's direction. He mouthed an amused, 'what?' She shook her head again and turned her attention to the little ball of giggles in her lap. She leaned over to whisper in Kierstyn's ear, laughing gently.

"I think he does, too!" Both erupted into a laughing fit as Mike looked on in confusion. Sensing that he was out of the loop and that Toni had been gone for quite a bit of time, he got up to check on her. He stopped mid-step and beckoned for Kierstyn to help him.

"Hey, Kierstyn, do you think you could help me find your mom?" The little girl slid off Carolyn's lap and scrambled to his side. She looked up at him, turned, and ran back to Carolyn. She planted a big kiss on Carolyn's cheek and, in a flash of brown and pink, disappeared into the next room, still giggling. Mike looked back at Carolyn's stunned expression before following.

Less than a minute later, footsteps and giggles flowed back into the room. Kierstyn followed behind Mike, babbling as only a two-year old can, unaware of the ghostlike expression on her mother's face. When Mike sat down, Kierstyn climbed onto his lap and continued to babble on. Carolyn turned her attention to Toni, watching her intently before speaking.

"Is there anything you can think of regarding your ex-husband that would help us to locate him?" Toni shook her head, looking slightly defeated.

"No...but I...you asked if I remembered any times he liked to...talk...to her and I think...I think when he located his suspects and brought them in on charges, he was always more...interested in the family. Especially Gina...I don't know if that helps at all, but it's all I can remember..."

"No, no, that's great. Thank you, I'm sure it will be very helpful...I think it's about time we left," she pulled out a card and handed it to her, "if you think of anything...or if he tries to contact you, just give us a call, okay?" Toni nodded as Kierstyn jumped off the couch and ran to her mother's side. Toni picked her up and walked them to the front door.

"Thank you detectives, for everything. If I hear anything, I won't hesitate to call...I'm sorry I couldn't help any more..." This time it was Mike who moved to comfort the woman. He rested his hand on her shoulder and looked at her with a most sincere, reassuring smile.

"You've given us some great information...I am sure it will help us find Mr. Simmis...we can't thank you enough." Toni nodded and shut the door behind them as they left.

Mike turned around to look back at the house when he heard the door shut and saw little Kierstyn sitting backward on the couch, waving her hand furiously at them through the window with the biggest smile on her face.

When they found their way back to the car, Mike hazarded a look at Carolyn. She raised her eyes and frowned at him, looking suspiciously as though she was going to give up. He raised his eyebrows at her as they settled into the car. "Hey," he offered gently, "worse comes to worst, in two months when his vacation time runs out and he thinks he's safe, we'll have him. He isn't an immediate danger to the public at this point, so we can just wait him out if we have to."

She stared out the window and he wondered for a second if she had heard anything he had said. He looked over at her, appraising her as she chewed on her bottom lip and fixated her gaze on the house they had just come from.

Once she clicked her seatbelt into place and he pulled away from the curb she hesitantly asked, "How is it that with every step we take, we fall further and further behind?"

She looked down at her folded hands as he reached over and traced the outline of her chin with his thumb. She closed her eyes and willed herself to believe in the words he spoke next.

"We'll find him...I promise."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Disclaimers, information, etc. in Chapter 1.

A/N: So, I was debating where I would end this chapter…for a long time. lol. That's why it took so long. My initial plan of this chapter's ending didn't go over well, but I like the outcome anyway. I'm not sure what I think of this chapter. Tell me what you think. I feel like it's not my best, but I also had no idea how to change it…so, just let me know if it was ghastly or if you actually thought it made sense.

In other news, upon hearing the nasty rumor/fact/whatever that Annabella Sciorra isn't going to be there for next season, I have gone into mourning. sniffle I have an odd, deep-seated appreciation of Barek as a character…and just thinking about her not being there makes me frown. I don't know if it's final or not, as of now I've only heard rumors, but I'm still in mourning. lol. BUT, on the bright-ish side, I have a new fic coming out that was totally bourne of my being in mourning. lol. Hopefully it'll be out today or tomorrow as I've written a good portion of the first chapter already.

On with the show!

Chapter 8

Another day, another dead end. There was no getting around it. They had looked under every rock and in between every hard place. There was nothing. Any leads they had once had were either stopping points, had no relevant information, or got lost in the shuffle. Even Carolyn's contact at the Bureau had told her straight up that she had worn out any favors he owed her over the years. They were at a stopping point. Deakins wanted them to call it quits.

And Deakins hated giving up on a case.

It was getting ridiculous, to say the least. Mike was getting antsy and Carolyn was getting frustrated. They all wanted something to happen. But for three days, nothing happened. Three days and there were no new phone calls and fewer than average faxes. Today, the mail carrier came in and dropped off two envelopes. Yesterday, they had ten. The day before: twelve. Staring dishearteningly at the envelopes, she tossed one to Mike and ripped open the other.

He looked at her quizzically as she tore into the envelope. He looked at the one on his desk, a deep black: 'Detective Carolyn Barek' staring back at him against the stark white of the paper envelope. He chuckled to himself as he, too, tore into the mail—her mail.

In the wake of shredded paper, she held the final piece of paperwork on Rick Simmis, couriered over from the Bureau that morning. Browsing through the papers, she threw the bundle down and laid her head in her hands, frustrated.

He tore his eyes from watching her and looked down at the photograph that fell from the now open envelope in his hands. Curious, he flipped the envelope over and surveyed its return address, and, finding none, picked up a pen from the container on Carolyn's desk to flip the photograph over with. Finding his actions suspect, Carolyn lifted her head to watch the scene unfolding before her. He squinted his eyes and creases formed on his forehead as he concentrated on flipping over the photograph, which proved harder than once conceived. When he had finally managed his task, he studied it for a moment before his eyes got wide and he lifted his eyes to hers.

"Barek? I've got something you need to see." She stood and walked over to him, still confused as to why he was being careful with her junk mail.

She leaned over his shoulder and asked, "What is it?"

He turned in his chair to look at her. "This was in an envelope addressed to you...you threw it at me so kindly just now...but, it's not just, ya know, junk...it's a Polaroid..." Turning to look into his eyes over his shoulder, her eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. He paused a beat before continuing, looking right into her eyes. "A Polaroid…of Gina Marnelle." She elbowed him to move so that she could get a better look and she took his place hovering over the desk. Careful not to touch it, she read the note and left, walking briskly away. Before Mike could process what had happened, he looked around to find her, but she was gone. He saw a flash of brown hair duck into the restroom and he moved to follow her, calling over to a nearby CS tech that had been on the floor to bag the photograph as evidence. Before the tech made it over to the desk, Mike scribbled down the note written hastily at the bottom.

"C,

One down, two to go. You're the last stop on this ride. Promise I won't be long.

Rich."

As the tech bagged the item, Mike took off toward Eames' desk. She looked up as he took his last step toward her and grabbed her arm, dragging her toward the ladies room. "I'm stealing your girl for a sec, Goren...we'll be right back," he called over his shoulder so that the large man beginning to rise from his desk would sit back down. Before Mike could interrupt any of Eames' incessant questioning, they had reached the restroom.

Mike pointed to the door in mock fear, looking somewhat like a child. "Go in there and make sure Carolyn's the only one in there."

Crossing her arms over her chest with a smile on her face, she replied, "And if she's not?"

"Kick 'em out."

Eames lifted an eyebrow and looked at him in amusement, almost laughing at the look on his face. "Okay...then what?"

"Then come out and go back to your desk...and hope that you don't have to go to the restroom in the next ten minutes."

She looked at him skeptically, rolled her eyes, and berated him. "You're like a four year old boy...too afraid to go into the ladies room..."

He looked at her indignantly and crossed his arms as she went through the doors. When she came back out, she told him the coast was clear, wished him luck, and left. He called out to her as she crossed the bullpen, "I was trying to not be an ass and embarass my partner like I do every five minutes, okay?" Eames looked back, slightly stunned with a cheesy smile on her face as she nodded and returned to her desk.

Mike braced himself and walked in, surprised to see Carolyn pacing around in front of the sinks, talking to herself. As he watched her for a moment, he had a certain sense of déjà vu from their first case. He laughed to himself and watched her as she paced, expressionless, babbling about something that he couldn't quite make out.

He locked the door behind him and went over to lean against the wall in front of her, next to the paper towel rack. He reached out and grabbed her hands as she neared him again and she jumped a little, broken out of her trance. He moved away from the paper towels and gave her room to lean against the wall next to him. He put his head back so that it rested on the hard, grey concrete and turned to look at her. She waited a moment before facing him, finding herself staring into his eyes as she did so. Neither spoke as the gravity of the past few minutes sunk in completely.

It was Carolyn who broke the silence in a semi-joking manner. "So, I guess the 'he's not a threat to anyone' theory is shot to hell now, huh?"

Mike nodded his agreement. "Yeah, I guess so..."

She turned her head to face the mirror on the opposite wall. "So, I guess this means I'm, you know...in some kind of danger...what with the note and everything..."

"Yeah, but I'll be there...and you'll be safe. He tries to lay a hand on you and it'll all be over."

"Put away your ego for a minute and think…maybe that's the point."

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe I should...let him...find me. If he thought he had the right opportunity, he'd show up and then we'd really have him...for good. No more cat-and-mouse wondering when he's going to show up next…"

"You offering yourself as bait?"

"Yeah, I guess I am..."

"No."

"No? You know, I know you're my...my, my whatever you are to me…but you can't be acting all caveman when there's another woman's life in danger."

"I know."

"This is our job, Mike. We're supposed to protect them, not us."

"I'm supposed to protect you. Friends, partners, something else—it doesn't matter because no matter what title we have, I'm supposed to protect you."

"I can take him, Mike. I did it once, I'll do it again. And besides, I did pretty good protecting myself before you came along and I'm sure I'll be fine after you leave."

"After I leave? What the hell makes you think I'll leave?"

"Mike…" she pleaded quietly, but he charged right through it.

"No! Even if this isn't about us, I've gotta wonder if you ever think about yourself…I mean...have you thought about what this could potentially do to you if you had to go another twenty rounds with him? It would tear you up inside." She rolled her eyes and looked at him dangerously, "Don't give me that look, Carolyn, you can't even talk about what happened all those years ago. And what happens if he gets that close or closer this time? Did you ever think about that? I don't know if you or I could take it."

"See, I'm hoping I'll knock him out in the first round..." She gave him a small smile that never reached her eyes.

"This isn't funny...I mean, even if you do only go one round, it's still dangerous...physically and emotionally. I don't want you going through that again…"

"But, you see, that's where you're wrong, Mike." Her words were more harsh with every passing thought. "I can't think about me...that's not what I signed up for when I took this job...and how can I complain when he's got Gina and she's been through so much more at his hands than I'll ever know?"

" I get that...I'm just saying that we've got to think this through...we have to do this...it isn't just you. Like it or not, as partners and as...more...we're invested in one another and that means we go into this together."

"I know...I know that, I do...and that's why I can do it...even if...shall we say, the worst does happen...I've got you, right? And there's no one else I'd rather have helping me cope, helping me heal, or helping me kick this guy's ass...right?"

"Right."

"And, plus, you did say you wanted to beat him up, right? Here's your chance. If he..."

"...if he even so much as breaths in your direction, I finally get to exact some justice..."

"Something like that…" She turned to smile at him and he smiled lightly back.

"We'll just say I get to beat him within reason and leave it at that, okay?"

"Okay."

"We'd better go report to Deakins…I sent it down to tech so they can…do their thing with it…and I better get out of this bathroom before Eames starts a nasty rumor about me being sensitive…"

"Because that would really be a tragedy…" He smiled at her as he grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze for comfort. He peeled himself off the wall and she followed as they made their way back to their desks.

"It would be…now, check to make sure people aren't watching before I come out."

"You're coming out? Do you have something you wanted to let me know, Mike?" she teased.

"Only that I love you…and that I'd love even more not to get caught by the whole squad coming out of the ladies restroom."

-------------

Just as they left the restroom (Mike sneaking out quickly and _almost_ nonchalantly after Carolyn gave him the all-clear), Deakins summoned them into his office. They bypassed their desks, went straight into the office, and sat down in the chairs as Deakins circled around to sit in front of them on the edge of the desk.

"So, it's been a day and a half since our last stat report. What've you got for me?"

It was Mike who spoke first, "We were just coming to see you, sir, there have been recent…developments…in the case. Toni Survette—Gina's mother—told us that he makes monthly checks to her for his own kind of 'child support' but other than that, he has little to no contact with her. They've got a daughter together, Kierstyn, but she barely knows him and he has even less contact with her than with Toni. She said she had no exact recollection of his ever sexually or physically abusing Gina--he appeared to be the model father--but upon further thought, she said that he seemed to spend more time with Gina--alone--after solving cases or in the aftermath of a verbal fight with her mother. Other than that, the abuse is speculation on our part..."

"It is well-founded speculation, though. If you piece together the events and the aftermath of the events, you can see a definate pattern of behavior," Carolyn interrupted. "If you look at the different actions of our perp as Rick Simmis and Richard Smart, there are two developing strengths. In effect, Richard Smart is the alter ego to Rick Simmis. It's...it's like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde...only he doesn't switch names every time he switches personality. " Seeing the confused stares coming from the captain and her partner, she continued. "Richard, basically, gives Rick a basis in reality. It is Richard that has the job in the FBI catching 'bad guys,' it is Richard that is responsible enough to make payments to his ex-wife, it was Richard that kept Gina out of the room during fights. Richard is the epitome of a sensible, accomplished, flawed man. But, on the other hand, it was Rick that raped and killed Clarissa Denbow. It was Rick that abused Gina after every fight, and it was Rick that has come into our view again as a dangerous man."

"Again?" Deakins asked, but Carolyn continued on as if she did not hear his question.

"We have to know at all times which man we're dealing with. We can play to their different weaknesses and strengths. Richard is a workaholic, a father figure, but, deep down, is also self-loathing. He knows what he does as Rick Simmis--he knows the pain and abuse he causes. He hates it, and he hates himself for doing it, but Rick is compulsive and emotional--very unsteady and volatile. Rick's compulsion drives the acts. Richard's repulsion drives his work life--his unwavering devotion to putting men like himself behind bars--"

"Barek!" Carolyn snapped her head up from staring at the wall behind the captain as he shouted her name.

"Yes, sir?"

"You said he was a dangerous man again...what did you mean by 'again?' Did something happen recently that you haven't told me?" Mike looked at her intently as she brought herself out of a haze and focused on something other than the man they were trying to catch. She was leaps ahead of the captain, and herself for that matter, in worrying about the situation at hand. The gears in her brain had begun to work again before they left the restroom, and her deep thought on the psychosis of Richard Smart had begun to unravel itself in the oddest of manners. She had reverted back to Special Agent Barek, comfortable working completely solo and answering her superiors with a train of unorganized thought which made sense only in her own mind. She had focused on the case to the point where the words falling out of her mouth could no longer keep up with the thoughts running around in her head.

"We have received a notice that our man has abducted Gina Marnelle...and that he is coming for Carolyn as well." Mike said, interrupting Carolyn's thoughts.

"Based on what?" Deakins said, composed, but slightly worried.

"Based on a photograph and note we've bagged as evidence that we received about twenty minutes ago. It's on its way to the lab for testing as we speak."

"Okay, so," he began, circling around his desk and picking up the phone, "I'll order 'round the clock protection of your apartment--all entrances and exits, two cars will be placed across the street on 24-hour watch, and you'll drive in to work under the protection of one of those cars."

"Sir, I--" Carolyn began, but Deakins ignored her statement and continued on in an authoritative mode.

"Logan, you are to be with her at all times. All times. She leaves your sight to run to the ladies room, I want you as close as the stall next to her. There will not even be the slightest chance of foul play. You understand me?"

"Sir!" Carolyn interrupted before letting out a loud sigh and continuing. "We've decided against protection...well, obvious protection at least. He's looking for me...he wants me and he won't make a move until it's best for him to do so. Any protection will only serve to dry up our resources...and he'll just wait. Then, we'll be completely vulnerable. He's not stupid, don't let his actions fool you: he does everything for a reason." Deakins looked at her sternly, then, almost menacingly.

"Barek, I know you think that this threat is nothing to worry about--that he'll try and get you at the most convenient time and we'll be there, waiting in the wings to arrest him. But like you said, he's not stupid. He'll wonder why, after such a public declaration of intent, you aren't more protected. He'll catch it right away. This is a lose-lose situation. We leave you vulnerable while we expect him to do those things and we risk even more by playing the waiting game." Deakins looked at her square in the eye and refused to back down. Sitting in front of him, she felt like a berated child, too stubborn to admit the faults in her theory. Before she could argue back, Mike threw out a suggestion.

"So, what if we make it less obvious, but still...heavy. We park a car outside 24 hours, I keep an eye on her at all times, and everything else is under surveillance back at the squad room. That gives our guy the illusion of an easy target without tipping him off and Barek, not to mention myself, can sleep actually sleep at night." Mike reclined back into the chair, pleased with himself and his excellent deductive skills.

"Okay...I think we can swing that. There'll be a car directly across the street from your apartment and Logan will move in temporarily and sleep on the couch until this is over with." Barek's eyes got big as she looked from the captain to Mike quickly.

"He's...he's moving in?"

"I'm moving in?" Barek and Logan looked at each other, horrified looks reflecting between them.

"Yes." he said, taking in the stunned glances from his two detectives. "Don't look at me like that--it was Logan's suggestion." Deakins looked at them pointedly and thrust his finger in Mike's direction. "You go home and pack all you'll need for a couple weeks. Be quick about it and come straight back here. Barek and I are going to come up with a final game plan and make some calls."

"Yes, sir." Mike looked at Carolyn once more as Deakins got on the phone, and winked at her before leaving.

TBC—remember to review, please (don't make me beg…because you know I will…)


	9. Chapter 9

Recovered, Chapter 9

Disclaimers, Author's Info, etc. in Chapter 1…

A/N: Wow…this chapter…is, well, interesting. I tried to make it good…but I couldn't go any further without putting in some serious Carolyn/Mike action. Hopefully it doesn't suck. wary face And the ending is pretty evil of me, I know…but I've been building toward it for awhile…oh, and naked Mike for the reading pleasure of his many fans. haha. I know you're out there drooling…lol.

Chapter 9

"So, Mike, how did you explain to the Captain how you moved into my apartment in less than twenty minutes?" Carolyn said, sitting down directly onto his lap. She wrapped an arm around his neck and shifted to make herself comfortable. He looked up at her and smiled guiltily.

"I'm a Boy Scout...always prepared." He held his hand up in the Boy Scout salute and she smacked him in the chest and kissed him fully on the mouth, tugging on his lower lip with her teeth as she pulled her mouth from his. She looked at him, smiling and happy, as she relaxed in his arms. He moved to place a quick kiss on her nose and wrapped his arms around her tightly as he flopped back into the couch cushions.

"I don't think we can do that now," she whispered in his ear, worried about the surveillance team downstairs.

"Why not? They can't see anything and if we don't talk, they won't hear anything either," he whispered back in her ear softly, biting her neck gently as he did so.

"Ow!" she yelled loudly.

Over an intercom near the couch, a male voice rang out in alarm: "Barek? Logan? What's going on up there?"

It was Carolyn who first recovered from the shock of having a voice speak to them out of the blue. "Oh, it was, uh...nothing. I...I stubbed my toe on the couch. Sorry boys!"

"Yes, ma'am," echoed the male voice dutifully.

She blushed and buried her face in the crook of Mike's neck, laughing embarrassedly.

"What are you laughing at?" he asked uneasily. She lifted her head and sighed, looking into his eyes.

"Because if I don't laugh, I'll cry." She gave him a weak smile and he hugged her closer to himself. He placed a finger against her lips and began to nip at the flesh near her collarbone as his hands traveled over her body. "Wait," she breathed into his ear, turning to face the intercom monitor. "Guys? What rooms should I avoid that don't have bugs?"

"Well, there's your bedroom closet, but since the bedroom is taken care of, we don't see that as a problem, ma'am..."

"So you managed to get the bathroom, too?" She cringed at the thought, making a mental note that she'd have to stop singing in the shower.

"Yes, ma'am...we're not taking any chances."

"Okay, thanks guys..."

"No problem. We're here if you need us for anything else, ma'am."

"Thanks, but cut the 'ma'am' crap...if my mother stops by unexpectedly, you can call her that…" She rolled her eyes and moved off Mike to sit on the edge of the couch. She leaned over to grab the television remote, searched through the guide and selected an historical documentary, not paying any attention to Mike's attempts to lure her back.

Seeing that she was otherwise distracted, he moved from his laying position on the couch to sit next to her. He threw his arm around her shoulders and tried to get interested in the documentary. After a few moments of sheer boredom, he looked at her and whined, "This is so boring, Barek! Don't you have anything else to do in this apartment?"

She looked at him and smiled deviously. "You aren't even listening to it! It's about the Alexsander the Great...if you paid attention, you'd learn something valuable..." As she rambled on, she drew an image on a piece of paper sitting on her coffee table and handed it to him. The first drawing was of a cartoonish looking TV with dark strokes coming from the speakers to indicate loud noise. The next drawing was of two stick figures in a shower with the door open (with the same dark strokes to indicate noise coming in from the next room) and the water running. In between the two drawings was a little caption: "let's hit the showers."

Catching her drift, he shot back, "Yeah, well maybe I'd learn something if I could hear the damned thing!"

"What are you? Deaf?" she said laughingly, turning up the volume on the remote. When the volume got to an almost unbearable level, Carolyn yelled out, "I'm going to take a shower while you watch this..."

She got up and he followed her, hands desperately grasping her hips. When they had finally reached the door to the bathroom, Mike turned her around to press her up against it and devoured her mouth with his own. He pressed her harder against the wood of the doorframe as he moved lower to her neck, roughly biting and sucking on the tender flesh. His hand moved underneath her shirt and around to her arched back. With one hand splayed across her back and other grasping her hips firmly, he pulled her against him in sheer passion. His hand left its resting place on her hip to move further south, grazing her ass as it went for her thigh. He gave her a gentle boost upward as she pushed off the ground and wrapped her legs around his hips. Still kissing her hungrily, he began to move them away from the door and toward the bedroom. One of her arms shot out from around his neck and planted itself on the wall, effectively halting his movements mid-stride. She pushed herself upward with her thighs and broke the kiss. She looked into his eyes, full of lust and excitement, and shook her head in the negative. Still bracing herself against the wall, she let her leg muscles relax and her hips ground against his as she inched back down once more to his eye level. She kissed him roughly and pulled away to whisper in his ear.

"The shower is our only option...with the water on and the TV blaring, it's the only way we won't be heard..." Mike looked at her as she spoke, taking in her words with disappointment and acceptance. He nodded and she let go of her grip on the wall, embracing him once again as he steered his way into the bathroom. She bent down to scrape his earlobe with her teeth and teased the sensitive spot below his ear at the juncture of his neck and jaw. As she continued to excite him, he brought them closer to the shower stall and she bent backwards to turn on the water. Mike took her obvious flexibility as an invitation as he ran his hands over her thighs and braced her hips so she wouldn't slip. As she tested the water, he bent a bit to kiss at the exposed skin on her stomach where her shirt rode up from the precarious position—soft, gentle kisses that grew in intensity until he felt the muscles of her legs grow weaker. Her stomach tensed as she began to react powerfully to his actions. Thankfully, she hadn't made a noise and the heat of the moment had her mind otherwise occupied. She ignored the pleasant feeling and the rapid racing of her heartbeat and turned the spray on when the water turned warm. As she began to push herself back up, Mike's hands lifted the hem of her shirt up and over her head. When he had it all the way off, her lips were on his again with increased passion. Her hands flew to the buttons on his dress shirt as her hips ground into his. He pushed her against the tile bathroom wall as her fingers moved nimbly over the buttons. When she finally reached the last one, she pushed the clothing off of him roughly, desperate to shed the remaining clothing items as fast as possible. With reluctance, she unwrapped her legs from around his torso and slid them down his body so that she was standing when he went to work on the buttons of her jeans. Similarly, she went to work on his belt and zipper, hands fumbling slightly from excitement.

Stepping out of their pants and the remainder of their clothing, the two stepped into the shower together, the warm spray a nice refuge from the outside world. Mike's arms landed on either side of her body--one by her head, the other by her hip--effectively pinning her against the shower wall. As his lips showered her body in featherlike wisps, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes to shut out the world. When she felt herself let out a moan, she forced herself back into reality. She bit her lip to cover another moan as his lips traveled further along her skin. She clenched her hands at her sides before brought them up and laced her fingers through his hair. She guided him back up to her neck and savored the moment one last time before interrupting it.

"Mike...hey, look at me," she whispered near his ear. He stopped and looked up, concern evident in his expression as she began to speak. "Tonight...I know it's a lot to ask under the circumstances, but I need this to be...different. I need this to be drawn out and slow and...God, I want you to make love to me tonight. I want it to last forever because I have no idea when we'll get another chance. We can't...we can't get caught, Mike...and the fewer times we do this with them listening, the better our chances. So, I need this to be enough--I need to be so much a part of you that I forget who I am." She looked down at the water pooling around their feet and Mike wrapped his arms around her. He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple and whispered words of comfort to her. He lifted her chin and caught her eyes with his.

"I love you," he whispered, brushing wet strands of hair out of her eyes. "I never want you to second guess that. Sex or not, I'll always love you." He looked at her and lowered his gaze to her lips, moving forward agonizingly slow. He brushed the bridge of his nose against hers and touched his lips tenderly to hers. He took immediate control of the kiss, slowing its pace and pulling back slightly as she attempted to deepen it. His lips caressed hers slowly, time and time again, never increasing in speed or depth. After a bit, he swept his tongue across her bottom lip, sending shivers down her spine at its light touch. As his tongue made its way into her mouth, tasting her bit by bit, he moved one hand down to her side. He found her small hand resting itself on the wall beside her hip, attempting to steady her increasing passion. He trailed his fingertips down the back of her hand delicately, causing her to whimper quietly into his mouth. He threaded his fingers through hers and pulled his lips from hers reluctantly. When her lips lost their warmth, she let out a soft moan and he watched her adoringly. He brushed the finger tips of his unoccupied hand across her lips and placed his lips close to her ear to whisper to her. "Open those beautiful eyes for me," he coaxed and she obeyed hazily. He smiled at her and she smiled back at him before letting them drift shut once more. "No, I want you to keep them open...I want you to watch me make love to you...I want you to see it so that you never doubt it."

He placed a kiss atop her forehead and her eyes watered a bit as she watched him leave light kisses across her body once more.

-------

Standing under the spray with his arms around her, Carolyn leaned her head back against Mike's chest and let the water wash over their spent bodies. She wanted nothing more than to be wrapped in his arms, safe and comfortable, forever.

Neither had noticed that the water was running cold and the television program had come to a close.

Carolyn turned around his embrace and pushed herself onto her tip-toes to quietly say, "We need to talk..."

She reached around him and shut the water off. She pulled open the curtain and grabbed two towels from the cabinet, handing one to Mike as she dried herself off. He stopped her hurried movements with his hands and kissed her. She looked up and smiled weakly at him before toweling off her hair. As he dried himself off and wrapped the towel around his waist, she walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. He followed her down the hallway and into the room, rummaging around in the bottom drawer for some clothes. Finding a pair of boxers and an old tee-shirt, he threw them on. She stood next to him in shorts and a tank top, waiting until he had finished before grasping his arm and pulling him toward the closet.

He looked at her quizzically and she pointed to the closet, mouthing, "It's not bugged."

He followed her inside the doors and hesitated before speaking softly. "What's wrong?"

She crossed her arms in front of her and looked down at the floor, unsure of what to say. He waited while she took a hold of her words, running his hands up and down her arms as comfort. "This...this is how it's going to be," she said softly. "We have to watch what we say and how we talk to each other...and we have to always be on guard. We can't...this isn't like playing house--we can't just do as we please and hope that everything turns out right. It's going to be endless weeks of hiding in the closet and turning up volume on the television...and...I'm worried--terrified actually--that we're not going to come out of this...or at least we're not going to come out of it in the way that we'd hoped. I just...I feel like we need to sort this out before it spins out of control...and this may be the only time we have to do it..."

"I sing in the shower."

"What?" she asked confusedly.

"I do...and I'm not going to stop because there are some guys listening--I sing in the shower and I drink straight out of the milk carton. I do it shamelessly, too...Oh, and I walk around in my boxers--especially if it's hot--because I just really don't like to wear more clothes than necessary. And I cannot stand mint unless I smell it or taste it on you..."

"Why are you telling me all this?" She looked at him with trepidation as he gently laughed at her expression.

"I'm saying this because in all the time we've spent at each others' apartments, you probably aren't aware of all of that...and I figure that it's better to tell you now than to have you find out in a couple weeks and be disgusted."

"Oh...well...in that case, I sing in the shower, too, but I'm not going to for a couple weeks because there are men listening to every noise I make and I embarrass easily...I sigh in my sleep and if I don't feel like shaving, I won't. I hate having the toilet seat up and I eat ice cream out of the carton--but only during history channel specials, Russian novellas, and Sex and the City."

Mike took in the last item on her list, looked at her with an eyebrow raised and shook his head. "You are probably the strangest woman I've ever met in my entire life..." She stuck out her lower lip and frowned--looking deliciously pouty, Mike decided. Letting his thoughts guide him, he bent down to capture her jutting lip between his and kissed her soundly. "And by that statement," he said once they parted, "I meant that you are the most gorgeous, captivating woman I've ever met."

"Do you think we'll be okay...through everything...do you think we'll survive all this sneaking around?"

"Yeah...yeah I do. And I know that had I been in any other relationship, I would never have been able to say that and mean it."

"Do you mean it now?"

"I mean it more than I've meant anything else in my life--except...twelve other times."

"You've said twelve things that you've meant more than this?"

He shook his head confidently. "Yes, I have--twelve things, but I'm pretty sure that the twelve will grow over the years..."

"And what were they?" she asked, trying desperately to keep the hurt from reaching her voice—and failing miserably.

"Well, number eleven was my oath to serve and protect the people of New York City...but numbers one through ten were the ten times that I told you I loved you. And I figure over the years, that number will grow sufficiently with the amount of times I tell you..."

"I'm pretty sure that was the eleventh sweetest thing you've ever said to me--in a backward sort of way..."

"Well good...because that's like...the thirteenth most meaningful thing I've ever said..."

"So, we'll survive?"

"Yes, we will...because I'm never letting you go and I'll never let anything happen to you..."

"I'm scared, Mike...and I hate to admit it...but I'm scared of what I've gotten myself into...I'm scared that he'll come for me again and I won't be ready...and I'm even more scared that this whole...operation...will only force us further apart...and as much as I love and trust you, I'm scared that when he does come for me, you won't be there--that somehow you'll..."

"That I'll let you down?" He watched as she grimaced and shook her head.

"Yeah...and I feel...terrible even thinking that, but things happen...especially because we're so invested in each other...it's just--it leaves more room for error..."

"I know...and I worry about that every night when I go to sleep with you in my arms and I worry about it every morning when I wake up...and in my gut, I don't think I'll ever be as prepared as I feel like I should be. I'm terrified that I'll find out something has happened and I won't be able to function...I'm terrified that when it all comes down to it, I'll freeze...or I'll just breakdown...simply put, I am scared out of my mind..."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?"

"No."

"Okay...thank you," she said sincerely, wrapping her arms around him and clinging for dear life. He closed his eyes when he felt the tears prick to the surface and held onto her just as fiercely--praying that their strength would be enough for what was inevitably coming.

-----

They had fallen asleep together on the couch that evening, wrapped haphazardly in an olive afghan with the history channel playing at a soft volume. They hadn't said much for the rest of the night--they had simply ventured out into the living room and held each other until sleep overtook them. They had prepared to sleep in until the alarm from Carolyn's bedroom had started its incessant, shrill beeping, but the similarly distinct ringing of Mike's cell phone abruptly woke them from their slumber.

Carolyn, clearly not used to being awoken from sleep by the unusual ringtone, bolted from her position on top of Mike at the noise. Mike, on the other hand, awoke at the noise and wrapped his arms tightly around Carolyn so that her startled movement didn't throw her onto the floor. Fumbling around with one hand, he picked up the ringing device and answered huskily. Managing a weak, "Logan," he cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes with his free hand. He shifted up to lean against the armrest of the couch and Carolyn laid her head back down on his chest when his movements stilled. He brought his hand down from his eyes and soothingly brushed his fingertips slowly up and down Carolyn's back as he listened into his phone.

There was silence for a moment as he closed his eyes again and asked, "Hello?"

As he listened to the hesitant voice on the other end, he answered, "Yes, this is Detective Logan...who's this?"

Listening to him talk to the muffled voice on the phone, Carolyn began to warm up to the idea of waking this early in the morning. She looked up and, seeing concentration written on his face, brought her lips to the warm flesh of his neck. Moving down toward his chest, she left a trail of soft kisses and grazed over his skin with her teeth. She began to position herself more conveniently when his hand on her back moved to her lips, effectively stopping her movements as he slid out from underneath her gently. He moved to sit on the edge of couch and slumped over to rest his forehead on one hand.

"Okay, okay...slow down. Take a deep breath. That's right...good job. Now, when did this happen?" His eyebrows furrowed and he listened intently. Carolyn became concerned at his anxious behavior and tried her best to listen in on the conversation. She curled up behind him with her legs tucked neatly underneath her and trailed her hand down his back to calm him. "No, no, no...you did nothing wrong. Just sit by the phone and try not to touch anything, okay? Can you do that for me? Okay good...it is very important that you don't touch anything until we get over there with CSU..."

At the mention of the deployment of CSU, Carolyn rose from the couch and went straight to the bedroom. Coming back into the living room in a hurry, she tossed Mike the first pair of pants and dress shirt she saw in the closet. Mike listened to the hysterics on the other end of the phone worriedly, trying his best to be calming while he pulled on his clothes. Carolyn stripped her way back to the bedroom, throwing the tank top and shorts in rumpled piles in the hallway as she rushed back to change her own clothes.

She was brushing her teeth and applying deodorant when Mike came into the bathroom to get himself cleaned up before they headed out. They stood in front of the sink cleaning, drying, brushing, and applying in silence as they both went into work mode. The gravity of the situation had already sunk in as they hurried around the apartment smoothly and efficiently as though they had lived together for years rather than a few sporadic nights.

After a few minutes, Mike had finished getting ready and shouted from the kitchen, "We need to be there in twenty minutes, so we'll have to leave in about five or less. The sooner the better, okay?"

"Got it," she yelled back. Mike grabbed two breakfast bars from the cupboard when he heard a drawer slam shut and saw Carolyn walk to the door. "Ready when you are," she tossed over her shoulder to him.

"Okay, here," he said as he threw her one of the breakfast bars and walked out the door. They gathered their thoughts in preparation as they headed to the elevator.

It was Carolyn who broke the uneasy atmosphere as they stepped into the elevator. "Mike," she said as the doors closed, "what happened in there?" She glanced over at his worn expression, waiting as he swallowed deeply and looked at her in anguish.

He breathed out a heavy sigh before breaking the news. "You remember that note that was written on the bottom of that picture of Gina Marnelle?"

She looked at him warily. "Yeah...why?"

"'One down, two to go...'?"

"Mike," she pleaded.

"Well, it's two down, now...our guy has another girl."

"Mike," she snapped fearfully. "What the fuck does that mean?" Her eyes shone bright in horror as he reached down to grasp her hand.

"He took Kierstyn--Toni's little girl--last night...that's where we're headed..."

Her mouth dropped open in shock and she clutched his hand tighter as the elevator signaled its stop on the bottom floor. She dropped his hand, took a deep breath, and muttered, "Son of a bitch."

TBC—ooo, tricky! Let me know what you think!


End file.
